Skybar by forest travel

Hey guys,
In a bit of a weird spot on a passport renewal and wanted to ask for recommendations.
I was self-employed leading into the pandemic and got completely wiped out in 2020 -- totally lost my business and suffered a pretty nasty financial setback -- ended up never getting around to filing my 2020 taxes in 2021.
Don't need to go into details but it took a while to get back on track and I'm finally getting around to fixing it this week + should have everything ready to roll by the end of the day.
Anyway...
Among some of the other dumb lapses during the downturn was a failure renew my passport. My partner has some out of country travel plans toward the end of summer, and now that I'm back in a position where I can afford to do it, I'd really like to go with her if I can get my ducks in a row. I'm cutting it a bit close, but if I'm working on the expedited timeline, I'm not too concerned about getting renewed.
However! I'm also aware that delinquent tax debt is a common cause for application denial. At present, because I haven't filed the year for which I owe, I also technically do not have any delinquent taxes -- I've checked my balance on the IRS website and can confirm that I don't owe anything...yet. I definitely will once I file (I've run estimates on this, I've got a good handle on what it'll be, it won't be terrible, and I'm totally comfortable paying it -- just a matter of getting everything squared away). One of the additional headaches that comes with filing late is that I can't do it online -- I'll need to mail everything, which means that I'll need to wait for everything to ship and I'll need to wait for confirmation that the IRS approved everything. I'm worried that this part could take a while.
My question is whether or not my filing status will accept my passport application and what the best course of action for choosing when and how to apply might be. I'm totally aware that this is a bit of a gamble on timing -- the world won't end if I don't get set up in time, but I would really like to make it happen if I can and I'd like to do whatever will give me the best shot at making something work. Should I go ahead and put my application in for expedited service as soon as possible? Should I wait a week or two until I have confirmation that my tax docs have been received and then put in an expedited application? Or, should I get the tax stuff squared away and hold out until I can put in an urgent request when the 14 day mark rolls around (I live on the East Coast and I can get to a few of the agency locations pretty quickly by rail)?
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Thanks a bunch!!!!

Just what the title says. A lot of times in the past there was a lot of nurses that would strike and they were not treated fairly when it came to: time off, benefits and generally just being overworked. But in today’s society nurses are absolutely cherished by everyone. No one is under appreciating or under paying nurses anymore. On the contrary, ppl constantly say nurses are just as important as doctors.
It is one of the highest paying jobs directly out of school, and they have no trouble finding work. They’re even able to be traveling nurses and they are respected wherever they go and compensated as such. But for some reason I still hear people complaining about how nurses are treated and how people look down on nurses. That’s not true anymore nobody feels that way and I feel nurses who say that nowadays are being histrionic.

I am seeking career advice. I am sorry if this is not the right place. I am not a nurse, but a I work in a role that was traditionally held by nurses. It is called quality improvement coordinator. Anyway, for this role, there are opportunities for travel nurses. The field is very specialized.
Anyway, I have 80k student loans from my master’s at a private university. I regretted going there. Here is my work history:
​

1. Worked one year in a state where I had a lot of personal issues. Had to leave the state.
2. Moved to California and loved the area, but I worked with a narcissist. I was the longest lasting employee because I stayed there for one year. 3 other people lasted less than 3 months.
3. Currently in a traveling job in the middle of nowhere. This traveling job is only 3 months but pays very well. I bring home 12k a month after tax (36k after I finish my contract). I will save about 30k after my contract if I am paying all my bills.

I have the opportunity to extend my contract for 6 more months. This means that I will bring home 90k after my all bills and staying for 6 months.
I was offered a job very close to home that will bring me $6,600 per month after tax. This is a permanent position and very close to my family.
Should I choose to stay at my contract? With 90k, I easily pay off my debt within a year. This contract is in the middle of no where and very boring. To be honest, because I am not a nurse, it will be very hard for me to find another contract or a position like this that is close to home. I am scared of my future, but I think that having my debt off my shoulders will be a big relief.

Hi there
Is there aynone who can help me understand the perk they offer here? "When you book a domestic, transborder, or Caribbean flight by June 29, 2023 for travel by November 30, 2023 (subject to availability)." Can I understand 'transborder' as a flight between a European city and a Canadian city? If I'm booking for myself and my partner can I apply the 25% to the total purchase or just one round trip flight? Can I apply this discount if I'm paying out of pocket instead of with points?
Thanks in advance

21F just a huge vent bc I'm having the worst year of my life. My boyfriend and I decided to go on Erasmus together to Germany from September last year. Im supposed to go back to Spain in August and I honestly can't wait and I just want to cry.
The first semester was hell for me because our first roommate was a narcissistic fuck and he put us through hell and also I started having hella anxiety with my relationship after he proposed opening up the relationship and I denied. He was fine afterwards and he has said he didn't want it anymore but it still caused me to become paranoid and jealous and I started having panick attacks upon going out to parties. I started smoking every day and staying at home while my mental health got worse everyday and I stopped going to class or turning in my assignments.
I failed every single course I had fought so hard to get into. The only friend I made which I thought was a really good friend and we had a connection started flirting with my boyfriend when she broke up with hers. It was such an uncomfortable situation and I felt so betrayed.
We moved to a different house which has been so much better but I started having recurrent vaginal infections every single month which has resulted in us being able to have sex maybe twice a month. He has been nothing but supportive but my self steem has completely disappeared and I feel like fucking crap and even more paranoid and jealous. Constantly fighting to get medical appointments and treatments, changing my diet and habits, taking supplements,... only for it to keep coming back every month. I'm tired of trying everything.
I quit the gym because I could not bare to see how good looking other girls were compared to how bad I feel. But I tried really hard to focus on my studies this semester to compensate for everything. I decided to take two exams in Spain instead of Germany because I chose my subjects wrong here (because I got absolutely no help when making my Learning Agreement). Now it turns out I might not be able to take these exams because I have no proof that I failed the corresponding exams here in Germany (which is absolute bullshit because I didn't go to one of them (= failing????) and the other one is way after the exam in Spain but I haven't turned any work in anyway so I could not even take the exam!!). So I'm only able to pass 3 subjects.
One of these exams I have tomorrow. Today is my birthday and I haven't been able to stop crying because the last three days I can't move my neck because it hurts too much for no reason and it goes all up to my head and eyes and I can't concentrate on anything. I'm so scared I'm going to fail it and my boyfriend and I have been studying so fucking hard for our exams in Spain all for absolutely nothing.
I'm just so fucking tired of everything turning out wrong and specially of people in uni administration who will do absolutely nothing to help you even if you fucking beg them to.
I'm glad I still have my boyfriend by my side but honestly this is the only good thing I've gotten out of this year apart from drugs tbh. I just want to go back and for this hell to be over.
But I also feel so fucking guilty because this year has been expensive which my parents have paid for and my dad always said it was a bad idea to go on Erasmus with my boyfriend (and it wasn't bad bc of my boyfriend but for other reasons but I just know that he's going to give me the "I told you so" and it makes me feel like shit). And I feel so stupid bc if I failed everything but at least got to travel or have fun or make a lot of friends it would be somewhat ok. But I just feel like I wasted my year.
Idk if you even read 10% of what I wrote thank you and I appreciate any kind words. I'm honestly just exhausted.

I fly to Europe from Australia in 8 weeks, I’m travelling for 3 months before moving to London on a Youth Mobility Scheme Visa. I just went to grab my passport to fill out my Youth Mobility Scheme application and found my passport to be water damaged. I don’t want to risk using my damaged passport for my Visa, so I’m going to renew my passport. It’s a 6 week turnaround to receive a new passport, and I’m worried that by the time I receive a new passport It will be too late for me to apply for my visa.
What can I do?
How long does it generally take for a youth mobility scheme visa to be processed and for you to receive a response?

Hello,
I am planning to travel to Mongolia this summer for just for a couple of weeks, and basically I would like to stay with a (semi?)nomad family in the steppes for a number of nights.
1)) Does anyone have any tips on where to look?
Ideally, I would like to book it through a grassroots company managed by people from that region, if not the families or community of families themselves; and in the Northern or Eastern regions which seem to enjoy the greenest steppes.
When I was in Kyrgyzstan, I hitched a ride to a village and traveled from there on a horse until we came across nomads who were used to hosting travelers. From what I have read around, I should not expect it to be that easy to move around the countryside in Mongolia.
2)) How do people usually reach the steppes and the homestays from the city?
Thank you so much.

I am seeking career advice. I am sorry if this is not the right place. I am not a nurse, but a I work in a role that was traditionally held by nurses. It is called quality improvement coordinator. Anyway, for this role, there are opportunities for travel nurses. The field is very specialized.
Anyway, I have 80k student loans from my master’s at a private university. I regretted going there. Here is my work history:
​

1. Worked one year in Arizona and was falsely arrested by the racist police. I felt so scared and had to leave the state despite liking my job,
2. Moved to LA and loved the area, but I worked with a narcissist. I was the longest lasting employee because I stayed there for one year. 3 other people lasted less than 3 months.
3. Currently in a traveling job in the middle of nowhere. This traveling job is only 3 months but pays very well. I bring home 12k a month after tax (36k after I finish my contract). I will save about 30k after my contract if I am paying all my bills.

I have the opportunity to extend my contract for 6 more months. This means that I will bring home 90k after my all bills and staying for 6 months.
I was offered a job very close to home that will bring me $6,600 per month after tax. This is a permanent position and very close to my family.
Should I choose to stay at my contract? With 90k, I easily pay off my debt within a year. This contract is in the middle of no where and very boring. To be honest, because I am not a nurse, it will be very hard for me to find another contract or a position like this that is close to home. I am scared of my future, but I think that having my debt off my shoulders will be a big relief.

Ignace Tonené Algonquin chief (1840/41–1916)
Ignace Tonené (Nias) (1840 or 1841 – March 15, 1916), also known by his Ojibwe name Maiagizis ('right/correct sun') was a Teme-Augama Anishnabai chief, fur trader, and gold prospector in Upper Canada. He was a prominent employee of the Hudson's Bay Company.
Quick Facts Born, Died ... Ignace Tonené Tonené with a rifle, standing on a porch Tonené in 1909 Born 1840 or 1841 Near Lake Temagami, Upper Canada Died March 15, 1916 (age 74–76) Near Lake Abitibi, Quebec Burial place Near Mount Kanasuta, Quebec Nationality Temagami First Nation, Canadian Other names Nias, Maiagizis Occupation(s) First Nations chief, fur trader, gold prospector Employer Hudson's Bay Company Known for Teme-Augama Anishnabai leadership Title Chief Spouses Angèle
(m. 1860; died 1869) Elisabeth Pikossekat
(m. 1871) Children 7 Family White Bear (Wabimakwa) (grandfather) Close Tonené was the elected deputy chief before being the lead chief and later the life chief of his community. In his role as deputy, he negotiated with the Canadian federal government and the Ontario provincial government, advocating for his community to receive annual financial support from both. His attempts to secure land reserves for his community were thwarted by the Ontario premier Oliver Mowat.
Tonené's prospecting triggered a 1906 gold rush and the creation of Kerr Addison Mines Ltd., although one of his claims was stolen from him by white Canadian prospectors.
Early life Maiagizis was most commonly known by his English name Ignace Tonené, often shortened to Nias. He was born in 1840 or 1841 near Lake Temagami in the Temagami First Nation in Upper Canada. He was the eldest son of François Kabimigwune and Marian, and grandson of Temagami chief White Bear (Wabimakwa). His brother was Frank White Bear (died 1930).
Career and community leadership Tonené worked for the Hudson's Bay Company from 1857, delivering mail between its trading posts at Lake Timiskaming and Lake Temagami. He also worked at Fort Témiscamingue where he likely learned French.
Temagami leadership Around 1868 Tonené was elected as deputy chief (anike ogima) taking over the role from his father. In 1877 Tonené filed a land claim concerning the Temagami region with the Parry Sound federal Indian Agent. In 1878 Tonené took over as head chief. He oversaw the adoption of potato farming and cattle raising. As chief, Tonené was noted for his principles, advocating the community that debts must be paid, including to the Hudson's Bay Company. Unlike other First Nations surrounding Lake Huron, Tonené's community was not a party to the Robinson Treaties. The treaties were two 1850 formal agreements between Ojibwa chiefs and the Crown in which chiefs relinquished land in exchange for immediate and ongoing financial payments. Tonené advocated for redress and support for his people. Tonené was concerned about the impact of lumberjacks and their impact on the natural resources. He advocated to federal Indian agent Charles Skene for the provision of an annuity payment and the creation of reserve.
During a speech in January 1879, Tonené warned his community: "The white men were coming closer and closer every year and the deer and furs were becoming scarcer and scarcer ... so that in a few years more Indians could not live by hunting alone." He continued to press the government for federal financial support and the creation of a reserve through a series of meetings and letters written in Anishinaabe, which resulted in an acknowledgment from Indian agent Deputy Superintendent Lawrence Vankoughnet in 1880 that approximately 2,800 square miles of Temagami land were indeed unceded. Initially Canadian Prime Minister John A. Macdonald deferred the matter to the Ontario Premier, but in 1883 the Department of Indian Affairs agreed to an annual payment to the nation. The prices were comparable to the amounts received by other First Nations who were parties to Robinson Huron Treaty. In 1884 Tonené convened a tribal council on Bear Island to discuss the potential location for the reserve; the community agreed it should be about 100 square miles surrounding Cross Lake and at the south end of Lake Temagami. The federal government agreed to the proposal, but the Ontario Premier Oliver Mowat, who had a reputation for hostility towards to Indigenous treaty rights, blocked the land transfer, primarily concerned about the value of the red and white pine lumber at the location.: 38 It was not until 1943 that lands were finally set aside for the Temagami, and the official creation of the Bear Island Reserve not occur until 1971.
In 1888, after Oliver Mowat's refusal to create the reserve, and as his chiefdom ended, Tonené moved his family to land between Lake Opasatica and Lake Dasserat near Abitibi, Quebec. In 1889 he travelled to Bear Island to meet Indian agent Thomas Walton and ask for seeds and farming equipment for his community. Tonené hunted and trapped to feed his family, and in 1903 starting prospecting, motivated by the recent silver discovery at Cobalt, Ontario. His successful finds of gold instigated the Larder Lake gold rush of 1906, according to the Canadian Mining Journal. The gold that he discovered at McGarry later became the Kerr-Addison mine, and he staked at least one claim there which was subsequently stolen from him by white settlers.: 43 The Tonene Old Indian Mining Company issued a prospectus just prior to the start of World War I, but sources do not indicate if Tonené benefited from the company.
Tonené was succeeded as head chief by John Paul, though Tonené continued to hunt and trap in Abitibi country. Following the 1893 death of John Paul, Tonené once again became head chief, and from 1910 he was the honorary or life chief and the primary advisor to the new head chief, his younger brother Frank White Bear.
Personal life In 1860 Tonené married Angèle, the daughter of former Temagami band chief Nebenegwune. They had two sons and two daughters and she died in childbirth in 1869. In 1871 Tonené married Elisabeth Pikossekat of Timiskaming band and they had three daughters.
Both of Tonené's sons died before adulthood, although his five daughters all lived into adulthood, married and had children.
Death and legacy Tonené died on March 15, 1916, near Lake Abitibi, Quebec. He was buried close to Mount Kanasuta, Quebec, near the Quebec–Ontario border. The location of his burial was later turned into a gravel pit and then a community dump.: 43
In 2016 Tournene Lake, south of Bear Lake and north of Larder Lake, was officially renamed Chief Tonene Lake.

Hi,
I was just wondering as someone who doesn't have a car where's the closest place to Bergen for me to travel by public transport/walking that allows me to stand on the coast and look out west across the ocean? Not a fjord, the actual ocean?
Last year I tried this. I first got the bus to Movik but from Movik you can't really see the ocean because Lokoy is in the way. So then I did a mixture of walking for a little bit and getting the bus for a little bit and so on from Movik to Agotnes and I found some places where I was able to see the sea but nowhere where I could stand on the shoreline and look out to sea.
Thanks!

I've made few very good friends on here, looking to add one or two more. I have gone through some mainly mental changes lately (gone from ISTP to a rather stereotypical ESFJ in few months), gotten over depression and started enjoying my life again. I've been working remotely at same job for 10 years now, as a former extreme introvert who enjoyed staying at home more than anything else, I've been changing that too by traveling ~2 months per year and experiencing new stuff! Poland and Greece are next on my list, can't wait!
At home, I've started loving my houseplants again, exercise, play games (mainly phasmophobia and overwatch, but I have a huge backlog on steam and I also have a switch), watch TV (pretty much anything, but I particularly love watching trashy reality shows with some company) and I've started learning various things to keep my schedule occupied.
Ideally I am looking for a 25+ y.o. European with time for daily conversations, someone who is into gaming, trashy shows, voice chats, plants, traveling... as well. The more things we have in common the better, but please message me either way if you have found my post interesting! Strictly platonic please, single but I'm looking hopefully just for lifetime friendships :)

I've been trying to figure out the size and timing of travel throughout the accepted timeline, the distance between blinkgates, and the effects of time dilation. I know there's rudimentary rules for it (1:10) but I find it fun to do, and I also think it's beneficial worldbuilding for different purposes. I only own the core book so maybe this is explained further in supplements but here's what I've got so far.
I had imagined Union stretched about 2500 light years end to end, each of the concentric rings covering a space of rougly 115 lightyears. This means the area covered by each ring is over half again as much as Union spreads out into the Orion arm. It makes sense why blinkgates would be less available (even exponentially so) as you get farther (this is another calculation I've been trying to figure out). It also eould explsin the quick contact between Union and the KTB and how they were able to fight pre blinkspace. Karrakis is (according to my calculations) around 75ly from Cradle, the outer bound of the Rocky Mountain line being a circumference of about 1000ly from a central Sol. This means that even in the age of blinkgates .995c travel is reasonable if impractical anywhere between HA, KTB and Cradle, which matters for subterfuge purposes but also easy enough to counteract with GALSIM. This creates an interesting tension that could be used several different ways.
Boundary Garden is my problem. According to the accepted timeline (and some context from 11DragonKid), nearlight ships began being produced in 1450u, and the Armstrong reached Aun'Ist in 1998u to find a colony that had been established by Union for a century. That would place Aun'Ist in the Ural or Atlas line if I had run my calculations properly earlier. If not, then each ring of Union increases the radius of union space by about 38 lightyears which seems small in my opinion. It also means that it wouldn't be unreasonable to launch military campaigns that fully ignore blinkgates. Also makes you wonder what's raking PISTON-1 so long.
As I type this out, it seems maybe more reasonable if .995 ships have only been around the last 500-1000 years and accounting for acceleration times and such. Also having such young nearlight ships gives some interesting dimensions to Cosmopolitan culture, since it would probably be a relatively recent phenomenon to even be able to make ot back to a changed homeworld in relativistic speed.
I would love it if any fellow overthinkers correct my math, post your own calculations, or give any other thoughts.

This is the best tl;dr I could make, original reduced by 59%. (I'm a bot)

SEOUL, South Korea - Amnesty International said Tuesday that a Uyghur student who it had said was missing in Hong Kong after being interrogated did not travel to the city, easing concerns over his safety but raising questions over how the allegations first emerged.
The human rights group said last Friday that Abuduwaili Abudureheman, who was born in Xinjiang in western China, had traveled to Hong Kong from South Korea to visit a friend on May 10 and had not been heard from since he texted his friend about being questioned at the city's airport.
Amnesty International said the student told the group on Tuesday that he did not travel to Hong Kong, "Contrary to previous information received."
It raised questions about the Hong Kong government's possible involvement in human rights violations that rights groups accuse the Chinese government of committing against Uyghurs.
A day later, the Hong Kong government called the accusations "Groundless and unfounded" and an attempt to smear it.
It said government records showed the student had not entered the city, nor was he refused entry, and it requested an apology from the group.

Summary Source FAQ Feedback Top keywords: student^#1 group^#2 Hong^#3 Kong^#4 rights^#5
Post found in /neutralnews, /worldnews and /anime_titties.
NOTICE: This thread is for discussing the submission topic. Please do not discuss the concept of the autotldr bot here.

I've made few very good friends on here, looking to add one or two more. I have gone through some mainly mental changes lately (gone from ISTP to a rather stereotypical ESFJ in few months), gotten over depression and started enjoying my life again. I've been working remotely at same job for 10 years now, as a former extreme introvert who enjoyed staying at home more than anything else, I've been changing that too by traveling ~2 months per year and experiencing new stuff! Poland and Greece are next on my list, can't wait!
At home, I've started loving my houseplants again, exercise, play games (mainly phasmophobia and overwatch, but I have a huge backlog on steam and I also have a switch), watch TV (pretty much anything, but I particularly love watching trashy reality shows with some company) and I've started learning various things to keep my schedule occupied.
Ideally I am looking for a 25+ y.o. European with time for daily conversations, someone who is into gaming, trashy shows, voice chats, plants, traveling... as well. The more things we have in common the better, but please message me either way if you have found my post interesting! Strictly platonic please, single but I'm looking hopefully just for lifetime friendships :)

As Nadira wanders through the forest, with tears streaming down her face, lost and alone, she stumbles upon a woman by the name of Medusa. Medusa's kind and nurturing nature shines through as she offers Nadira a helping hand, taking her on a journey that leaves her awestruck. It remains to be seen if their love story will stand the test of time or fall apart in the face of adversity.
https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/love-in-the-shadows/list?title_no=871578

They didn’t tell us the name of the next kid that disappeared. They didn’t tell us another kid had disappeared at all. We could all tell by the silence what had happened. It spoke volumes. I’m sure they talked about it in great detail amongst themselves. In PTA meetings and City Councils. My parents made sure to turn off the TV at 5 o’clock before the news came on, at least in my home. They’d turn it back on for the 11 o’clock news, when were were in bed and couldn’t hear the details.
The strange thing is, they never told us to just stop going outside. They told us to go in groups, sure, but they never decided, or as far as I could tell even though, to keep us all indoors. I guess that sort of freedom wasn’t something they were willing to give up. Instead, they did the neighborhood watch thing. For those few months, I remember my folks meeting more of our neighbors than in all the time previously, or since. Retirees would spend their days out in their front lawns, watching kids and everybody else coming and going. They’d even set up lawn furniture, with umbrellas, even all through the rains of spring. Cops stopped sitting in ambushes on the highways waiting for speeders and instead started patrolling the streets, chatting with us as we’d pass by. Weekends would see all the adults out in their yards, working on cars in the driveways, fixing the gutters, and so on. They had this weird way of looking at you as you’d ride by. Not hostile stares, but it was like they were cataloging your presence. Boy, eight years old, red raincoat silver bike, about 11:30 in the morning, heading south on Sorensen. Seemed fine.
The next time we saw it, it wasn’t in our neighborhood, and I was the one who saw it first. We were visiting Russ, a sort of 5th semi-friend from school. We rarely hung out, mostly owing to geography. His house wasn’t far as the crow flies, but it was up a steep hill. We spent a Saturday afternoon returning a cache of comic books we’d borrowed. The distance we covered was substantial, as we had decided to take lots of extra streets as switchbacks, rather than slowly push our bikes up the too-steep hills.
The descent was going to be the highlight of the trip, up until I saw the Hidebehind. We were on a curving road, a steep forested bluff on one side. The uphill slope was mostly ivy-covered raised foundations for the neighborhood’s houses. That side of the road was lined with parked cars, and the residents of the homes had to ascend steep staircases to get to their front doors.
I was ayt the back of the pack when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Movement, something brown squatting between two closely parked cars. My head snapped as I zoomed past, and despite not getting a good look, I knew it was that terrible thing. “It’s behind us!” I shouted and started pedaling hard. The others looked for themselves as I quickly rushed past them, but they soon joined my pace.
Ralph’s earlier idea of directly confronting the thing was set aside. We were moving too fast, and down too narrow a street to turn around. Then we saw it again it was to our left, off-road, between the trees. Suddenly it leaped from behind one tree trunk to the next and disappeared again. That hardly made sense, the base of the trees must have been thirty feet below the deck of the street we rode down. One of us, I think it was India, let out one of those strangled screams.
There it was again, back on the right, disappearing behind a mailbox as we approached. That couldn’t have been, it must have outpaced us and crossed in front of us. Logic would suggest there was more than one, but somehow the four of us knew it was the same thing. More impossible still, the pole holding up the mailbox was too thin, maybe two inches in diameter, yet that thing had disappeared behind it, like a Warner Bros. cartoon character. It was just enough to catch a better glimpse of it though. All brown. A head seemingly too bulbous and large for its body. Its limbs were thin but far longer, like a gibbon’s. Only a gibbon had normal elbows and knees. This thing bent its joints all wrong like it wasn’t part of the natural order. We were all terrified to wit’s end.
“The trail!” Ralph shouted, and the other three of us knew exactly what he meant. The top of it was only just around the curve. It was a dirt footpath for pedestrians ascending and descending South Hill, cutting through the woods on our left. It was too steep for cars, and to be honest, too steep for bikes. We’d played on it before, challenging each other to see how high up they could go, then descend back down without using our brakes. A short paved cul-de-sac at the bottom was enough space to stop before running into a cross street.
Ralph had held the previous group record, having climbed three-quarters of the way before starting his mad drop. India’s best was just short of that, I had only dared about halfway up, Ben only a third. This time, with certain death on our heels, the trail seemed the only way out. Nothing could have outrun a kid on a bike flying down that hill.
We followed Ralph’s lead, swinging to the right gutter of the street, then hanging a fast wide left up onto the curb, over a patch of gravel, between two boulders set up as bollards, lest a car driver mistake the entrance for a driveway, and then, like a roller coaster cresting the first hill, the bottom fell out.
It was the most overwhelming sensation of motion I’ve ever had, before or since. I suppose the danger behind us was the big reason, and being absolutely certain that only our speed was keeping us alive. I remember thinking it was like the speeder bike scene from Return of the Jedi, also a recent movie from the time. Only this was real. I didn’t just see the trees flashing past it, I could hear the motion as well. Cold air attacked my eyes and long streamers of tears rushed over my cheeks and the drops flew past my ears, I didn’t dare blink. Each little stone my tires struck threatened to up-end me and end it all. Yet, and perhaps worse, half the time it felt like I wasn’t in contact with the ground at all. I was going so fast that those same small stones were sending me an inch or two into the air, and the arc of the flights so closely matched the slope that by the time I contacted the trail again, I was significantly further down the hill.
At the same time, I had never felt more relief, as the thing behind us had no way of catching us now. Somehow, maybe the seriousness of the escape gave us both the motive and the seriousness to keep ourselves under control. Looking back, I marvel that at least one of us didn’t lose control and end up splitting our skulls open.
We hit the pavement of the cul-de-sac below, and didn’t bother to slow down. We raced through the cross-street, one angry driver screeching to a halt and laying on his horn. This brought out the neighborhood watch. Just a few of them at first. Still, we didn’t slow down, our momentum carried us back up the much shallower slope of our neighborhood. Witnesses saw us depart at high speed, and this only brought out more of the watch. We heard whistles behind us, just like our P.E. teacher’s whistle. We figured that was the watch’s alarm siren. Regardless of what happened to that thing, it was behind us. We returned to our homes, shaken, but safe and sound, our inertia taking us almost all of the way there.
Another kid disappeared that Sunday, up on South Hill. We’d suspected it because we could see the lights of the police cars on a high road, surrounding the spot where it would turn out later, one of the kid’s shoes had been found. Russ confirmed it at school on Monday. It was a kid he’d known, lived down the road from his place, went to private school which is why we didn’t recognize his name.
I remember seeing Ralph’s face the next day when he arrived at school. He looked angry. Strong. Like he’d been crying really hard, and now it was over and he was resolved. He said he’d felt guilty because the thing we’d escaped from had gotten the other kid instead. He tried to tell his old man about it, then his mom, then any adult he could. He’d tell them about the monster who hides behind things. They needed to focus on finding and stopping that instead of looking for some sort of creeper or serial killer. Of course, nobody had listened to him. They hadn’t listened to the rest of us either when we’d tried to tell.
So he’d devised a plan. He was calling it the “Fight Patrol,” which we didn’t argue with. If the adults wouldn’t do something, we would. We’d patrol our neighborhood on our bikes, the four of us, maybe a couple more if we could talk others into it. We’d chase it off like that first time, maybe for good, or maybe corner it. Clearly, it could not handle being caught.
Naturally, we brought up the scare on South Hill. He argued that was a bad place. Too isolated, couldn’t turn around easily. We needed to stay on our home turf, lots of visibility, and plenty of the Neighborhood Watch within earshot. Maybe we and the adults working together was the key, even if the adults didn’t understand the problem.
Well, that convinced us. Our first patrol was that afternoon, after school. We watched everybody’s back like hawks. Nothing had a chance to sneak up on us. Nothing could step out from behind a bush without getting spotted. By Friday afternoon there were eight of us. The next week we split up to extend our territory to the next neighborhoods over.
Nothing happened. We never saw anything. Ben thought it was because we were scaring it away. Ralph just thought we were failing, and took it personally. I myself thought the thing had just moved to different parts of town, where the new disappearances were taking place. I told him we should keep it up until the thing was caught.
It was all for naught.
One day, India didn’t show up for school. I asked everybody, the teachers, the office staff, the custodian, my parents. All of them said they didn’t know, and it was so easy to tell that they were lying. That would mark the end of the Fight Patrol.
Ben didn’t show up a couple of days after that. When I got home and collapsed into bed, my mother came in to tell me that Ben’s mother had called. She’d taken him out of school and they were moving elsewhere. I called up Ralph to let him know the news, and he was relieved too.
My last day was Friday, and then I was taken out. Again, I called Ralph so he wouldn’t worry. I guess when there were only two weeks left of school, and it was just grade school, a couple missed weeks don’t amount to much. So I ended up spending the bulk of the summer out in the country, with my grandparents, which was why I brought up my grandpa in the first place.
I suppose I did fine out on their farmhouse. I was safe. There was certainly no shortage of things for a kid to do. I think my mom felt a strong sense of relief too. Things slipped through the cracks.
My grandparents didn’t have cable, too far out of town. They just had an old-school antenna and got a couple of TV stations transmitting out of Canada, Vancouver specifically. I remember one July day, sitting in their living room. My grandmother had just fixed lunch for me and my grandfather and had gone out to do some gardening as we watched the news at noon.
My grandfather was already being ravaged by his illnesses. He was able to get around, but couldn’t do any real labor anymore. He’d lounge in front of the TV in a special lounge chair. He hardly talked, and when he did he’d just mumble some discomfort or complaint to my grandma.
The lead story on the news was the current situation in Farmingham, despite being in the neighboring country, it was still big news in Vancouver, and the whole rest of the region. It seemed the disappearances were declining, but the police were still frantically searching for a supposed serial killer. I didn’t pick up much about what they were talking about, I was a kid after all, but my grandfather was watching intently, despite his infirmity.
He mumbled something, I didn’t catch. I asked him was he said, and as I approached I heard him say “fearsome critters.”
He turned his eyes to me and said again, distinct and in a normal tone of voice, “fearsome critters,” then returned his attention to the screen. “I don’t know why they call them that. Fearsome, sure. But ‘critters?” Makes it sound silly. Like it's some sort of fairy tale that it ain’t. Guess it’s like whistling past the graveyard. Well, they don’t have to worry about them no more, guess they can call them what they like.”
Then he turned to me. “Do you know what it is?” he asked. “Squonk? Hodag? Gouger? Hidebehind?”
“Hidebehind,” I whispered, and he turned back to the TV with a sneer. I had no idea what on earth he was talking about. Remember, this would be years before I learned he spent his youth as a lumberjack. And yet, somehow, I knew exactly what we were talking about.
“Hidebehind,” he repeated. “That will do it. They give them such stupid names. The folk back East, that is. Wisconsin. Minnesota. Ohio. Way back in the old days, before my grandfather would have been your age. Back when those places were covered by forests. They didn’t give them silly names back then, no. Back then they were something to worry about. Then they moved on, though. They all went out West, to here, followed the loggers. So as once they didn’t have to worry about them anymore, they started making up silly stories, silly names. “Fearsome critters,” they’d call them. Just tall tales to tell the greenhorns and scare them out of their britches. Then they’d make them even sillier, and tell the stories to little kids to spook them.”
“Not out here they didn’t tell no stories nor make up any names. It was bad enough they followed us out. I had no clue they even existed until I saw one for myself. Bout your age, I suppose. Maybe a little older. Nobody ever talks about them. Not even when they take apart a work crew, one by one. They just pull the crews back. Wait till mid-summer when the land is dry but not too dry. Then they move the crews in, a lot of them. Do some burning, make a lot of smoke. Drives them deeper into the woods, you know. Then you can cut the whole damn place down. But nobody asks why, nobody tells why. The people who know just take care of it.”
“I guess that’s why they’re coming to us now. All the old woods are almost gone. So they’ve got to. Like mountain lions. I supposed it’s going to happen sooner or later.”
We heard my grandma come into the back door to the utility room, and stomp the dirt off her boots. My grandfather turned to me one last time and said, “Whichever way you look at it, somebody’s just got to take care of it.” Then my grandmother came in from the utility room and asked us how our lunch had been.
Now that I look back at it, that might have been the last time my grandfather and I really had a meaningful talk.
We moved back home in late August. I had been having a fantastic summer. Though looking back, I suppose it could be rough for a still-young woman to be living in her aging parents' house when she’s got a perfectly good husband and house of her own in town.
First thing I did was visit Ralph. He’d been busy. He’d fortified his treehouse into a proper, well, tree fort. He’d nailed a lot of reinforcing plywood over everything. He hadn’t gone out on patrols by himself, of course, but the height of the tree fort afforded him a view of the nearest streets. He’d also made some makeshift weapons out of old baseball bats, a hockey stick, and a garden rake. The sharp rocks he’d attached to them with masking tape didn’t look very secure, but it’d only take one or two good blows with that kind of firepower. He also explained he’d been teaching himself kung fu, by copying all the movies he saw on kung fu movies late at night on the unpopular cable channels. That was classic Ralph.
As for the monster, it seemed to be going away. Its last victim had disappeared weeks previously, part of the reason my mom felt it was time to go back. This had been at night too. What’s more, the victim had been a college student, a very petite lady, barely five feet tall, under a hundred pounds. The news had speculated that their presumptive serial killer had assumed she was a child. I remember thinking the Hidebehind didn’t care. Maybe it just thought she couldn’t run fast enough to get away or put up a fight when he caught her. Like a predator.
At any rate, the college students were incensed. Of course, they’d been hyper-alert and concerned when it was just local kids going missing. Now that it was one of their own the camel’s back had broken. They really went hard on the protests, blaming the local police for not doing enough.
They started setting up their own patrols, and at night too. Marches with sometimes dozens of students at a time. They called it “Take Back the Night.” They’d walk the streets, making sure they’d be heard. Some cared drums or tambourines. They’d help escort people home, and sometimes they’d unintentionally stop random crimes they’d happen across. I felt like this was what the Fight Patrol could have been, if we’d just been old enough, or had been listened to. This would be the endgame for the Hidebehind, one way or another.
I stayed indoors the rest of the summer, and really there wasn’t much left. It doesn’t get too hot in the Pacific Northwest, nobody has air conditioners, or at least we didn’t back then. It will get stuffy though, in August, and I liked to sleep with my window open. I could hear the chants and challenges from the student patrols on their various routes. Sometimes I could hear them coming from far away, and every now and then they’d pass down my street. It felt like a wonderful security blanket.
I also liked the honeysuckle my mother had planted around the perimeter of the house. Late at night, if I was struggling to fall asleep, the air in my bedroom would start to circulate. Cold air would start pouring in over my windowsill, bringing the sweet scent of that creepervine with it, and I’d the sensation before finally passing out.
This one night, and I have no knowledge if I was awake, asleep, or drifting off, but the air in the room changed, and cooler air poured over the windowsill and swept over my bed, but it didn’t carry the sweet smell of honeysuckle. Regardless of my initial state, I was alert pretty quickly. It was a singularly unpleasant smell. A bit like death, which at that age I was mostly unfamiliar with, except a time some animal had died underneath the crawlspace of our house. There was more to it, though. The forest, the deep forest. I don’t know and still don’t know, what that meant. Most smells I associate with the forest are pleasant. Cedar, pine needles, thick loam of the forest floor, campfires, even the creosote and turpentine of those old timey-logging camps. This was none of those smells. Maybe… rotting granite, and the spores of slime molds. Mummified hemlocks and beds of needles compressed into something different than soil. It disturbed me.
So I sat up in bed. I hadn’t noticed before, but I’d been sweating, just lightly in the stuffy summer night heat. Now it was turning cold. Before me was my bedroom window. A lit rectangle in a pitch-dark room. To either side were my white, opened curtains, the one on the right, by the open half of the window, stirred just slightly in the barely perceptible breeze.
Most of the rectangle was the black form of the protective cypress tree. Only the slight conical nature of the tree distinguished it from a perfectly vertical column. To either side was a dim soft orange glow coming from the sodium lamps of the street passing by our house. It was perhaps a bit diffuse from the screen set in my window to keep out mosquitos. In the distance was the sound of an approaching troupe of the Take Back the Night patrol. They were neither drumming nor chanting, but still making plenty of noise. They were, perhaps, three or four blocks away, and heading my way.
For some reason that I didn’t understand, I got up, off of the foot of the bed. The window, being closer, appeared bigger. I took a silent step further. The patrol approached closer. Another step. I leaned to my right, just a bit, getting a slightly wider view to the left of the cypress tree. That was the direction the patrol was coming from.
That was when it resolved. The deeper black silhouette within the black silhouette of the cypress tree. A small lithe frame with a too-bulbous head. It too leaned, in its case, to the left, to see around the cypress tree as the patrol approached. They reached our block,on the other side of the street. A dozen rowdy college students, not trying to be quiet. None of them fearing the night. Each feeling safe and determined, and absorbed in their own night out rather than being overtly sensitive to their surroundings. They were distracted, unfocused If they had been peering into the shadows, if just one of them had looked towards my house, behind the cypress tree, they might have seen the Hidebehind, poking its face out and watching them transit past. But they didn’t notice.
It hid behind the cypress tree, and I hid behind it, hoping that the blackness of my bedroom would protect me. I stood absolutely still, as I had done once when a hornet had once landed on the back of my neck. Totally assure that if I made the slightest movement or made the slightest sound that I’d be stung. I hardly even breathed.
The patrol passed, from my perspective, behind the cypress tree and temporarily out of view. The Hidebehind straightened, ready to lean to the right and watch the patrol pass, only it didn’t lean. Even as I watched the patrol pass on to the right, it stood there, stock still, just as I was doing.
It was then I became aware that my room had become stuffy again. The scent was gone. The air had shifted and was now flowing out through the screen again, carrying my own scent with it. I knew what this meant, and yet I was too paralyzed to react. The thing started to turn, very slowly. It was a predator understanding that it might have become victim to its own game. It turned as if it was thinking the same thing I had been thinking, that the slightest movement might give it away.
It turned, and I saw its face. Like some kind of rotting desiccated, shriveling fruit, it was covered in wrinkles. Circles within concentric circles surrounded its two great eyes, eyes which took up so much of its face. I couldn’t, and still struggle, to think of words to describe it. Instead, I still think in terms of analogies. At the time I thought of the creature from the film E.T., only twisted and distorted into a thing of nightmares. Almost all eyelids, and a little drooping sucker mouth. Now that I’m more worldly, it reminds of creatures of ancient artworks. The key defining feature were the long horizontal slits it had for eyes. You see that in old masks carved in West Africa, or by the Inuit long ago. You see it in what’s called the “slit-eyed dogu” of ancient Japan.
As I watched the wrinkles on the face seemed to multiply. Then I realized this was the result of its eyes slowly widening. It’s mouth, too, slowly dilated, revealing innumerable small razor-sharp teeth. A person, standing in its location, shouldn’t have been able to see in. Light from the sodium streetlamps lit the window’s screen, obscuring the interior. It was no person. It could see me, and it was reacting to my presence. Its eyes grew huge, black.
My own eyes would have been just as wide if not for my own anatomical limitations. I was still watching when it disappeared. It didn’t see it move to the right. I didn’t see it move to the left, nor did I see it drop down out of view. It simply disappeared. One fraction of a second it was there, and then it decided to leave, and so it did. It was not a thing of this world.
There were no more disappearances after that poor woman from the university. I don’t think it had anything to do with me. The media and police all speculated their “serial killer” had gone into a “dormant phase”. There was no shortage of people who tried to take credit. Maybe they deserve it. The thing’s hunting had been on the decline. All the neighborhood watches and student patrols, I think that maybe all that commotion was making it too hard for the Hidebehind to go about its business. Maybe it had gone back to the woods.
Then again, maybe Ralph had been right the whole time. Maybe it really, really, really didn’t like to be seen.
So.
Now I’ve got some decisions to make. I think the first thing I should do is look at social media and dig up Ralph. It’s been a good thirty years since I last talked to him. He ought to know the Hidebehind is back. He’s probably made plans.
Then, there’s the issue of my son. He’s up in his bedroom now, probably still mad at me. Probably confused about why I’d be so strict. Maybe he’s inventing explanations as to why.
I’m not sure, but I’m leaning toward telling him everything. He deserves to know. It’d probably be safer if he knows. I think people have this instinct where, when they see or know something that they’re not supposed to know, they just bottle it up. I think that was the problem with grown-ups when I was a kid. It was the issue with my grandfather, telling me so little when it was almost too late. I think people do it because we’re social animals, and we’re afraid of being ostracized. Go along to get along.
Hell, my son is probably going to think I’m crazy. It might even make him more mad at me. And even more confused. He knows about the disappearances. “The Farmingham Fiend” the media would end up dubbing the serial killer that didn’t really exist. It’s become local “true crime” history. Kids tell rumors about it. It was almost forty years ago, so it probably feels safe to wonder about.
So yeah, I suppose when I say I know who the real killer was, a magical monster from the woods that stalks its prey by hiding behind objects, then impossibly disappears- that I’m going to look like a total nut. I’d think that if I were in his shoes.
Except… people are going to start disappearing again, it’s only a matter of time. The media will say that the Farmingham Fiend is back in the game. Will my son buy that? He’ll start thinking about what I told him, and how I predicted it. Then he’ll remember that he saw the thing himself, he and his friends, even if it was just out of the corner of his eye.
I hope, sooner or later, he’ll believe me. I could use his help. Maybe Ralph is way ahead of me, but I’m thinking we should get the Fight Patrol back together. Father and son, this time. Multigenerational, get the retirees involved too.
Old farts of my generation, for reasons I don’t understand, like to wax nostalgic over their own false sense of superiority. We rode our bikes without helmets and had distant if not irresponsible parents. Yeah, yeah, what a load. I think every new generation is better than the last, because every generation is a progression from the last, Kids these days? They’ve got cell phones, with cameras. And helmet cams. GoPros you can attach to bikes. Doorbell cameras.
It seems the Hidebehind loathes being seen. This time around, with my grandfather’s spirit, my own memories, and my boy’s energy? I think this time we’re finally going to beat it.