The experience of using an old laptop and being in a haunted house are functionally the same
- Things suddenly turning on and off
- Newer technology just will not work
- The hissing of ancient Lovecraftian beasts emanating from the walls when you try and send email
- Reasonable risk or sudden urge to kill and maim (email still won't send)
- Ghosts
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at work, finishing my scripting and trying to be a nice person to the guy going on this road call: thank you for your help, you have a good night and stay safe out there
tech on other end of call: uh huh
me after hanging up: fuckin kids
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Choosing the Bear - Preview
Just another attempt to kickstart my writing juice again. x_x
Used the (now) age-old question: Would you choose to be alone with a man or a bear in the middle of the woods?
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
If you found yourself at night in a forest – somewhere that made bumfuck nowhere look like New York City – would you choose to be alone with a man or a bear?
Bambi Rose Barker was stuck in the middle of both answers. Literally.
She stood stock still, eyes wide, chest heaving and aching for air while her stomach lurched. Moments earlier – or maybe half an hour ago, she couldn’t tell – she had managed to escape her kidnapper’s cabin with the man hot at her heels. It had been a mad dash through the night, dressed in only a tank top and a pair of daisy duke shorts and choking down pain as her bare feet slammed over rocks, branches, and uneven terrain.
Luckily, a full moon cast light over the world, so Bambi wasn’t exactly stumbling without sight. Fumbling through the forest without shoes was still a bitch on the soles, but she simply gritted her teeth and continued forth.
When she caught sight of the bear a few yards ahead, her racing feet and thoughts froze. She couldn’t really be seeing a bear, right? Under the moonlight and swirling starlight, she squinted. But it was hard to deny that the bright white creature was anything but a bear.
Her adrenaline shifted from fleeing her pursuer as she slowed to calculating whether ursine or man was a larger threat.
Behind her, the man howled as he tromped through the mountainside forest, “Bambi, get back here! I just wanna talk things out!”
It wasn’t the first time she’d had a man chasing her with a shotgun. Growing up in the country, with little to do except get in trouble, Bambi and a group of friends often found themselves running off into the dark, being threatened by an angry elder with a shot gun.
The man tailing at her heels wasn’t crochety Mrs. Jenkins, who was more bark than actual bullet.
No, she was well-acquainted with Duke Walker. They’d grown up in the same town and known each other forever.
There was one key difference between Duke and the other men of Hartwell: his family owned the little town. By and large, he was better off than most people in Barfield and he got away with a whole helluva lot more than the average folk.
Which included stalking, as Bambi had learned over the last two years of their separation. He was about to add kidnapping and possibly murder to the list, as well.
But Duke was a human. A five-foot-eleven-inch human that might have a chance to be reasoned with.
Whereas the bear…
The rest of this part is available right now on my Patreon.
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props to chilchuck for putting up with what he does bc if i was a crochety old man cursed to be perceived as a hormonal teenager. id lose my mind a little bit.
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