Searching for the best weight loss pills and diet supplements with exceptional customer ratings? Look no further! In this comprehensive guide, we'll unveil a curated list of top-notch products that have received the highest ratings from satisfied customers. Discover the most effective solutions to support your weight loss journey and achieve your desired results.
PhenQ has various notable ingredients playing a distinctive role in weight loss
​

1. PhenQ: The All-in-One Weight Loss Solution: PhenQ is a popular weight loss pill known for its multifaceted approach. It targets weight loss from various angles, including appetite suppression, fat burning, and increased energy levels. With its powerful formula and positive customer feedback, PhenQ has earned its reputation as one of the best weight loss pills on the market.
2. Leanbean: Designed for Women's Weight Loss: Leanbean is a premium weight loss supplement specifically designed to cater to the needs of women. With its carefully selected natural ingredients, Leanbean helps boost metabolism, reduce cravings, and enhance energy levels, making it an excellent choice for women looking to achieve their weight loss goals.
3. Zotrim: Clinically Proven Appetite Suppressant: Zotrim is a clinically proven weight loss supplement that focuses on appetite suppression. It contains a unique blend of natural plant extracts that help you feel full for longer, reducing calorie intake and aiding weight loss. The positive customer reviews and scientific backing make Zotrim a reliable choice for effective weight management.
4. Garcinia Cambogia Extra: Harnessing the Power of HCA: Garcinia Cambogia Extra is a popular weight loss supplement that utilizes the power of hydroxycitric acid (HCA) derived from the Garcinia Cambogia fruit. HCA has been shown to help suppress appetite, block fat production, and enhance mood, making Garcinia Cambogia Extra a trusted choice for those seeking effective weight loss.
5. Consultation and Considerations: Before incorporating any weight loss pills or diet supplements into your regimen, it's important to consult with a healthcare professional. They can assess your individual needs, evaluate potential interactions with medications, and provide personalized guidance to ensure the products are suitable for you.

PhenQ has various notable ingredients playing a distinctive role in weight loss
Conclusion: Finding the best weight loss pills and diet supplements can be overwhelming, but with the guidance of customer ratings, you can make an informed decision. PhenQ, Leanbean, Zotrim, and Garcinia Cambogia Extra are among the top-rated products with a track record of customer satisfaction. Remember, sustainable weight loss requires a comprehensive approach that includes a balanced diet, regular exercise, and healthy lifestyle choices. When used responsibly and in conjunction with a healthy lifestyle, these highly rated weight loss pills can provide the support you need to achieve your weight loss goals.
Disclaimer: This article is for informational purposes only and does not constitute medical advice. Consult a healthcare professional before starting any weight loss regimen or taking any weight loss pills or diet supplements.

Vermas (Venmom) pov
The werewolf named Davey continued talking about how safe my son's job usually was and talking about how his job was just to report if he senses any monsters while delivering packages. It still did little to calm my worry, after all what if another monster senses him!
With that Davey laughed "werewolves are the only race that can identify other monsters by scent, and while some werewolves might be criminals, the worst we've ever encountered was a mob boss a few decades ago." "Besides, will might be scrawny for his age but he's fast, not much can actually catch him!" My nerves calmed a little more after Will told me that the last time a sniffer died on duty he was on his pad and got hit by a car.
I told him to be extra careful before he and Lim went to bed. A medic had patched Lim up the best he could but he was still missing a tooth. This paw was insane and it definitely tired us all out but I still had to continue speaking with Davey and Sasha. "You really surprised me by hugging him." For some reason she sounded relieved, like a great pressure was taken off off her shoulders. "Why?" I asked. "Most people fear fear monsters. I've seen really bad reactions, everything from disowning them to trying to kill them I their sleep. We literally have a task force meant to watch people who are turned by rouge vampires in order to guarantee their safety."
I was horrified, they were worried I would react like that?! I might have been scared at first but that's still my son, I could tell the moment I looked him in the eyes. "Can you tell me anything I need to know about him? Does he prefer his wolf form?" Davey turned to me "most werewolves don't prefer either form, but I see him napping in the communal area at HQ in his wolf form all the time after his shift. The cleaning crew are always pulling small pranks on him for leaving hair everywhere." It made sense, he always slept under a mountain of blankets, all this time he was trying to mimic the warmth of his fur. "As for parenting tips we can get you a large treadmill for your basement. Running at full speed can make any werewolf happy and keep them entertained."
Nodding I turned to Sasha "is there anything I need to know about his diet? Does he need to eat meat or can he continue eating fruits and vegetables?" With that they both turned to each other awkwardly before Sasha turned back to me. "Will and Davey eat lab meat with each other every couple days." She said quietly. Him eating meat didn't bother me, I just didn't want the smell of cooking meat in the house. There was a human refugee center nearby and they had a separate food court for meat, and the center was only a short shuttle ride away and I had made it clear that he could go whenever he needed to.
"As werewolves we need a lot more protein then humans." Davey explained. I nodded a long, it made sense upon seeing how his wolf form could allow him to fight an arxur with his bare hands, or were they paws now? "I have a question but I don't want to seem rude." "What is it?" "Why do you live in secret, you look strong and Will easily beat three terrorists!" With that Davey sighed. "It's a long story, a long time ago werewolves used to rade human farms during full moons to steal livestock, while others would rob and kill humans. Vampires used to feed solely on human blood too, and other monsters would prey upon them. But it only took one human discovering out weakness and surviving to tell the tale before everyone knew how to kill us, it only took one human stabbing a vampire in the chest with some broken furniture. After they knew our weaknesses they could easily kill us all, so over time we intergrated into human society in secret. Over centuries we became legunds and as humanity discovered how to make media to entertain we became the antagonists over those stories. The media has a lot of misinformation, like vampires being able to fly or werewolves not being in control of their wolf forms but they got one thing right, how to kill us. If you ask any human how to kill a werewolf they will tell you to use silver or kill them while we're in humans form, if you ask how to kill a vampire they'll tell you to stake them in the heart, decapitate then, or throw them into sunlight." " We also have extremely low birth rates world wide, with vampires having to infect humans to make more of themselves, and biting a human is seen as a SIN! There are under fifty thousand of us werewolves, and under twenty eight thousand vampires world wide, and were bothe the most common species!" "On top of all of that, humanity has been scaring themselves with stories about us for thousands of years, if they saw us it would be as though their nightmares came to life some would fear us, some might accept us like the humans who work with us, but many would call for genocide out of fear."
Finally understanding just how terrifying it must have been for Will to come clean about what he was I made a mental reminder to hug him extra hard and he woke up for work. I turned to Will's coffee machine, I normally only drink one cup a day but there was still more stuff and you talk about with Davey and Sasha so I needed more energy. Luckily I've seen Will brew with this thing so many times I know how to do it myself. "Not to be offensive Davey, but it was hilarious seeing Will moving in here in his wolf form" Sasha said barely containing her laughter. With that Davey began laughing "yeah, he's going to be fucked when he's full grown!"
After the realization of why he just said hit me I turned to Davey quickly " He's going to get bigger!?!"

Yo Pham,
I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.
(Platform: PS5, Controller & Headset) (Screen: 65” LED) (Chair: Moviesac Lovesac) (Top Snacks: Frozen Pizza, Fruit Snacks, Charcuterie Board) (Top Dranks: Liquid Death H20, Scotch, Wine) (Any Hacks?: 200mgs worth of edibles and 2 vapes) (Time off work: see you next Tuesday) (Likely Class/Build: HxC DruBear) (Launch Plan: Be the best) (Overall Hype: 11/10)
Now you!

37F, overweight, under some stress over the past couple of months. I would ideally like to help myself first before reaching for medication. No medication. I have PCOS if that is of any connection. I know first and foremost, losing weight would be the best but slim people also have high blood pressure so it cannot be the only reason I have it, I do think the recent stress contributed largely to it. But is there anything specific, maybe some foods that I can eat to help? Diet and exercise, less salt, more fruits and veg- that is what I found online. I would greatly appreciate any advice.

A Website Email Finder tool can be important for lead generation in Ireland for the following reasons:

1. Access to a wider pool of leads: While LinkedIn and other professional networking platforms are valuable sources of leads, not all potential prospects can be found on these platforms. Many businesses in Ireland may have a strong online presence through their websites. A Website Email Finder tool allows you to extract email addresses directly from websites, expanding your reach and providing access to a wider pool of leads.
2. Targeted lead generation: By using a Website Email Finder, you can focus your lead generation efforts on specific industries, niches, or target markets in Ireland. This enables you to identify potential leads based on their website content, products, or services, ensuring that you reach prospects who align with your business objectives. Targeted lead generation increases the chances of finding qualified leads and boosts the effectiveness of your outreach efforts.
3. Direct and personalized communication: Email remains a widely used and effective communication channel for businesses. Having access to email addresses obtained from websites allows you to establish direct communication with potential leads in Ireland. You can send personalized messages tailored to their specific needs and interests, increasing the chances of engagement and building stronger relationships with prospects.
4. Enhanced lead quality: When you extract email addresses from websites using a dedicated tool, you can often find direct contact details of decision-makers or key personnel within the organization. This improves lead quality by providing access to individuals who have decision-making power or influence, increasing the likelihood of conversion and fruitful business interactions.
5. Automation and efficiency: Manually searching for email addresses on websites can be time-consuming and inefficient. A Website Email Finder automates the process by scanning websites and extracting relevant contact information in a fraction of the time. This automation allows you to generate a larger volume of leads efficiently, saving time and effort in the lead generation process.
6. Cost-effective lead generation: Using a Website Email Finder tool eliminates the need to purchase pre-existing lists or invest in expensive lead generation services. It provides a cost-effective solution for generating leads in Ireland, allowing you to allocate your resources more efficiently and focus on nurturing and converting the leads you acquire.

Best Website Email Finder Tool For Lead Generation In Ireland

LeadFoxy is the best Best Website Email Finder Tool For Lead Generation In Ireland
. Best Lead generation tool helps us to reach our targeted customers. The Best Lead Generation Tool makes our potential customers as paying customers. LeadFoxy helps us to generate potential leads. Here we discuss about the key services of LeadFoxy :

• Reach decision makers in a few clicks
• Access most accurate contact information
• Find prospect's emails from any company
• Daily Lead From Recent Registered Domains
• Automation Tool for newsletter campaigns
• Close more deals using AI Lead Tool Suit
• Converting Visitors Into Leads With Chatbots
• More Online Reviews With Review Management Tool
• API To Prevent Fake Or Spam User

I recently discovered the pure joy that is a cup of cold fruit with chamoy and Tajin. Maybe a stupid question but who's got the best vasos de fruta in Houston?

I need help with trials I’m shark I want to get the second gear Someone please help out I have ps and everything Just need 2 people I would really appreciate it!!

So. I have spent well over an hour of my life clicking the same options over and over to get the correct sequence for maximum hearts. There doesn’t seem to be any actual reward for this other than personal satisfaction so I figured I’d share it to the masses. Save some poor soul from spending their own time and sanity on this.
The correct order is as follows:

• I mean, I could drink it for you if you're worried...
  
• Missing you like crazy.
  
• Seriously? As much as I love staring at you... I want more right now.
  
• I can't think of anything. You go.
  
• Volks, you know how I feel about you. I just want to get to know you on a deeper level. Seriously.
  
• (Bat your eyes flirtatiously.)
  
• I'd really love to hear more about your life growing up.
  
• I knew you were an adrenaline junkie!
  
• Eli told me you're a model. What's that like?
  
• Fruit of the Moon, eh? I'd wolf whistle if I knew how.
  
• Tell me about your hobbies! How did you get into the whole survivalist thing?
  
• What do you like about it?
  
• I think they forgot to make it taste good.
  
• Aww, I love how eager you are to take care of me.
  
• Let's keep it lighthearted.
  
• What's the best gift you've ever received?
  
• Oooo, yeah. Can't go wrong with wool socks.
  
• What's your favorite book?
  
• That's a great book!
  
• What's your favorite karaoke song?
  
• Why do you sound so defensive?
  
• Oh my gosh. What were you singing!?
  
• Well, I'm definitely glad you stayed. This date is really important to me too.
  
• I like the shirt you're wearing. You look good.
  
• I just want to tell you that I think your smile is the cutest thing in the entire world.
  
• I want this to last. We should plan a romantic get away.
  
• It doesn't have to be over.
  

I know, your welcome. Like Jesus I have died for your sins.

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.