Taft furniture bedroom sets

Moving to a new home is often about packing and unpacking stuff. However, it’s a more complex process than that. You need to take care of the electricity systems, plumbing, roof, house cleaning, baby proofing, and other important tasks to settle in fully.
Your job as a new homeowner is to take a quick tour of your house and figure out what needs to be done so you can feel at home in your new place. To help you with your move, here we have compiled a list of the top important things you need to do to make your home livable.
1). Make it Baby Proof
Moving into your new home with a baby is often the most challenging task for any homeowner. It’s easier to settle in when you are moving alone or with adults, but taking care of your children (especially toddlers) can get quite hectic.
It’s important to baby and pet-proof your new home to ensure the safety of your little ones. Cover all the electric outlets and put gates on the stairways to prevent any accident. Don’t take your children upstairs for the first few weeks or until you are fully settled.
2). Plan your Layout
Do not unpack until you know which item goes where. You must already have an idea of which furniture pieces or decor stuff is packed in which box unless you have not labeled the cardboard boxes. Before you start unpacking, plan a rough layout. Decide which couch, lightings, house decoration stuff, and electrical appliances must be installed in which rooms. Once you know where you have to store which items, you can unpack your boxes without creating any mess.
3). Call an Electrician
Electrical units are probably the first thing you will want to handle after moving into a new home. Now, this isn’t something you can DIY or set up with the help of a friend. As soon as you move into a new place, call an electrician in Melbourne to organize your electricity system. Any emergency electrician in Sunshine Coast will help you with the installation of your electrical appliances.
4). Do a Deep Clean
Your new place needs a deep clean, especially after you are done unpacking your stuff. It’s totally normal to not feel like putting on your cleaning gloves and mopping the floors right after moving in. If you don’t have the energy to give your home a deep clean, consider hiring professional cleaners. You can also hire a lawn moving company in Sydney to get your garden ready for the guests. Deep cleaning is a must to make your home livable and look fresh.
5). Replace the Old Locks
You never know who has access to your current locks. The last thing any new homeowner wants is the intruder to break into their apartment. This is why you need to replace your door locks or install deadbolts instead for maximum security.
So, these were the few things you must do when you get into a new home.
Southside removalists is proud to provide quality services and excellent customer service to our valued clients. Our team of removalists is professional, reliable and experienced in all types of moves – from studio apartments to sprawling estates.

It seems I can't work, but life isn't designed to not work.
How the heck do I fill up my time?
My mental state and lack of energy prevents me from watching shows or movies (!!!),
and I get tired of scrolling Reddit.
I can handle reading Star Wars novels, and only Star Wars novels, a little.. but only for a few minutes total each day. It would never be more than an hour or two even on the absolute best dream day.
Due to obesity, I can't walk longer than 40 min, and the US isn't built for long walks anyway. Not really energetic enough to lift weights.
I can have cable news on in the background, but usually I get sick of it and have to be scrolling Reddit simultaneously anyway, which I also get sick of. Also my cable news often doesn't work due to technical issues anyway, despite me paying relatively a lot for it. A lot of people also consider it mentally unhealthy.
I can listen to music but feel like I need something else to do while I'm listening to music.
I'm not good at doing household chores and don't do them more than the bare minimum. When a bigger project is necessary like moving furniture to have the floors redone, I dread it and it takes everything out of me. I wouldn't even consider doing it if my family gave me a choice. Also, it's a one off and doesn't help with my filling up time issue. Sorry if I sound spoiled.
I can place calls to avoid getting my healthcare cancelled when I get a letter from them, but that only takes a short time despite being very draining. I sometimes miss the letters, but that's a whole other story.. it's because I'm not always at my primary residence. But regardless of where I am, I'm just sitting and staring.. or just lying down.. maybe scrolling Reddit, maybe not.
I can't absorb audiobooks either, and they irritate me.
How the heck do I fill up time? I literally can't think of anything outside of trying to get a job and letting a manager decide for me. But presumably I can't work, or at least not full time. So that's not very helpful. I can also set goals for myself but can't actually do them, so idk if having a manager set those goals would be all that helpful. For a normal person it would be, but if I'm genuinely disabled, it might not be. Idk. When I was more "normal" I could follow through on the goals I set for myself as well. I applied for SSDI because I couldn't force myself to stay upright and do very easy coursework that my professor expected me to do for longer than 40 minutes a day, without lying down and closing my eyes. This was for a vocational training program I tried as an adult, after already having had health issues for years and years.
On my "good" days, I've already driven all my local roads and know the local area very well. Aside from hitting the interstate for a more ambitious trip, which is very challenging for me and expensive, there's not much I can do. I could fly to Europe or Asia, but that's much, much more challenging, especially with my weight issues and other health issues. Also expensive. I don't really want to go tbh.
Videogames are even more challenging and draining for me than movies or shows. I don't play them. At least not for more than a few minutes to try a new game and give up on it.
I've tried learning foreign languages thru Duolingo or YouTube, but I don't stick with it either.
I used to be able to watch no-commentary walks on YouTube, but I've gotten sick of them and have already seen most places that I'm interested in.
What do I do? Other than eating, which is expensive, won't help with my obesity, and can only be done a few times a day anyway. What do I do?
Edit: The only thing I've found is doing coloring books, but I don't have mine with me now, and I get sick of that too lol.

TIFU. I really messed up in one simple way: forgetting that this particular restaurant sells extremely massive burritos. Burritos bigger than my own head. Burritos so huge that even in highschool, when this restaurant was still a tiny food truck, I couldn't even try to finish one. I am gonna be forced to eat these things all day tomorrow....
I still remember when I first saw the little food truck. Tiny. Innocent looking. And I was in search of good food that isn't the cafeteria slop that are as nutritious as cardboard laid out in the sun.
$12 for a burrito? Not... Terrible of a price but good food costs money and I loved quality, still do.
And then I saw it...
The behemoth. The MONSTER. I couldn't even begin to try to finish it. My small depressed self trying to eat such a massive, flower tortilla wrapped delicious delicacy, filled with rice, beans, pico de gallo, cabbage and more. Practically waiting to explode like a grenade that was over filled with gunpowder and needing only a good tap.
When I got home that day my grandma looked at me concerned before seeing me pull the barely even half eaten creation out from my backpack. I had been nibbling on it all day and barely made a dent. She wouldn't touch it because of her dentures and the irritation rice tended cause her when it slipped underneath.
I remember the name I gave those burritos, "Sumo Wrestler Burritos". Huge, massive, both worth and not worth it. Delicious but full of regret.
When the food truck disappeared I was saddened. I looked everywhere for them but I couldn't find it. I had thought that perhaps they didn't get enough recognition and weren't able to compete with the other businesses. This town is full of tradition. Traditional food. Traditional settings. Traditional old New Mexico.
But then a familiar business popped up, same area but in the abandoned building the food truck usually sat by.
The Giant Skillet.
Oh the food was better than ever. They had tacos, deepfried chili peppers, alcohol, merch, more desserts. They used to only have rice crispy treats that were like a large brick. They still were. They even had sushi and salad bowls. But oh... Oh how could I forget the burritos...
Foolishly, after I got home and was told by my stepdad that he and my mom were gonna go to this restaurant for a date, and asked if I wanted anything for both dinner and tomorrow for work. I was craving a burrito.
I asked for two.
Two burritos.
Like a darn fool I forgot. I forgot the one rule that is known about this restaurant. THE ONE RULE THAT I LEARNED SO LONG AGO.
NEVET UNDERESTIMATE THE SIZE OF THEIR BURRITOS.
When they got home I got out my little lunch box and saw them....
Bigger than my head. Heafty. So wide that when I take a bite I might as well have been a small mouse. A humming bird even.
I realized my mistake as memories flooded me of all the times I had to heave one of those burritos back to the high school and all the way home. I swiftly got a cutting board and sliced one in half. Put one half in my lunchbox and the other on a napkin and took it with me to my bedroom where I now sit. And to my horror... I see the mess I left myself in for next to my half burrito was my Nintendo Switch... It was as big as the screen in both width and length.
I am now here. Nibbling away at this monster. Fighting for my life to save my mom from the realization that I had unknowingly caused her to waste $40+ dollars on burritos that I will likely not be able to finish.
I will post a link to the comparison picture in the comments. If allowed. If not you will find it on my profile.
I am full of rice, beans, pico de gallo, cabbage, spices, and flower tortilla. Who knew that regret could taste so good.
I am honestly trying my best to finish it and totally not stalling as I type.
I just hope that this doesn't leave me sick tomorrow. I cannot risk missing work tomorrow because how would I even begin to explain it to my boss?
Oh how far I had fallen...
Like Lucifer, or Icarus, perhaps... perhaps I got cocky. It was what? 8 or 9 years ago since I had one of these? I swear they weren't this big...
They were huge but not... Pyramid Head's great sword huge! Maybe I forgot. Maybe... My frail sanity has finally caught up with me and the past few years truly had shattered my memory even further. Who knows.
What I do know is that I cannot let my mother know that I can't finish this dang thing right now. I'd like state some genuine advice here...
If you happen to find this restaurant. Ever. Do not be like me. Heed the warning.
Do beware, the burritos of this restaurant.
One is enough for the whole family.
I am genuinely trying while trying to not explode before I go to bed. If I survive I'll let you all know if I can.
TL;DR: I ordered two burritos, forgetting that the restaurants burritos are bigger than the League of Legends fan base. Send help.

Hello to the two people who will read this! I am currently on the living room sofa because of a spider. This story may sound strange but thats because, well, its strange.
Let me set the scene
It was about 3:50 in the morning, I was still awake because I wasnt tired and I get a week off of school, yay! Im just turning off my laptop and getting ready for bed, when I decide to check next to my window (common spider spot in my bedroom) one last time before I go to bed just to make sure there arent any eight legged arseholes around, and what do I see? An eight legged arsehole. Now, I am incredibly arachnophobic already, but when its almost four in the morning and I cant even get my stepsister to get it for me (like I usually do) I was literally sweating because of the fear. Now as a professional idiot, my brain is incredibly rational and decides that the best course of action is to go downstairs and get the hoover (vAcCuUm cLeAnEr for you yanks) and suck the spider into the dusty depths of our friendly Hetty Hoover. So I go downstairs, through the living room, into the kitchen, into the laundry room, and grab trusty Hetty and haul her aaall the way upstairs into my bedroom. I plug her in, and then try to move my curtains out of the way to get a better view at the creature. But then… THEN… THIS SONOVABITCH decides that NOW is the best time to role-play Usain Bolt and leg it beyond my sight and behind the curtain. I bravely move the curtain out of the way with Hettys nose and the fucker has disappeared. This obviously causes me great distress so I formulate a plan.
STEP ONE. Get post-it-notes out of my bag (my parents are divorced so I have a “From house to house” bag)
STEP TWO. Go downstairs and find a writing utensil, I ended up finding one of those weirdly shaped rectangle pencils (My dad is a bricklayer so he has a stash)
STEP THREE. Write “HELLO FAMILY. [My Name] IS SLEEPING IN THE LIVING ROOM. SPIDER IN BEDROOM. PLEASE WAKE ME UP ASAP.” Onto the post-it.
STEP FOUR. Retrieve blanket from the puffy (I dont know if Americans have these, basically a little storage chest / table in the middle of your living room, often matching the chairs)
STEP FIVE. Post on Reddit because I needed some way to calm myself down, as well as an event-log for my tired future self.

Will fly back to Philippines in a few months (can hand over more info in private or move to another platform if you're serious to stay in touch and meet in person, just paid for the flights today, woot woot, happy new month of June, by the by!) initially for 90day stay with option to extend to a full 6-mo stay if the variables align.
If we don't have chemistry, best to set boundaries as nothing more than platonic Roommates, but ideally I know I do miss having a boyfriend for cohabitation.
Hoping you could afford to either split equally or if you're feeling generous go ahead and do the King Lion's share I can cover the utilities/groceries I'm worth all the perks anyway and I make sumptuous albeit very basic Italian-and-French-style Pastas plus healthy smoothies and raw salads (not the best in the kitchen, zero knife skills so you won't have to worry about me trying to murder you with a sharp blunt object, haha).
Location would be either in Taft Manila near DLSU or the gentrified sides of Makati/BGC.
Can discuss everything on other messaging platforms (send Reddit chats first, TIA!), and if we bond over common likes/dislikes/preferences/experiences/sentiments whathaveyou, this might be the start of something amazing!
And please, I behoove you, please speak in English I am not literate in Filipino parlance or culture/subcultures (save for some car and motor jargons -- any fellow gearheads that fit the profiling??).
Other stuff expected from you

• Decent ethical patient frills-free gentleman with no psychological hang-ups, either actively working or semi-retired/fully-retired
  
• Top Preference for fit and healthy sporty guys with a healthy routinary lifestyle, but if you aren't, maybe you have other strengths and special skills that make up for being unfit and unhealthy??
  
• Don't tell me senseless shizz like your height, your skin colour, the shape of your eyes, or any of that typical repetitive humdrum lines you Filipinos seem to always copy-paste from each other, yuckers
  

About me

• Honestly, you can just scroll through my Reddit profile and see if you're erudite enough to not make the wrongest assumptions sur moi
  
• I do sleep and walk around naked unless I feel violated by someone who's just a friend. Can put on decent clothes if we end up just being plain platonic roommies...
  

Ok, so I'm a first time renter, and at the moment I have 2 apartments in Cambridge that me and my roommate really like. My roommate is my sister, and she agreed to pay up to one third in rent costs.
Apartment A is in a 100+ year old building (in a safe and historic part of town) at $3400/month for 2 beds 1 bath, with heat and water, gas stove, at 900 sqft on the top floor. It is also less than <10 minute walk to Porter square, which is nice since I don't have a car. Downside is that my work commute would be longer by about 15 minutes. There is also shared coin-op laundry (2 sets of machines) for almost 20 units. Me and my roommate plan to wash 3 loads and dry one weekly (most of our clothes are line dry anyway). Costs almost $3 per load.
Apartment B is a luxury apartment for 1.5 bed 1 bath at $3600/month, with only trash utility covered at 800 sqft. It has in-unit laundry and better appliances and is also close to Alewife station (also <10 minutes). It also has additional building amenities, typical of a luxury apartment. My commute would also be shorter by a few minutes but is farther from a shopping center but nearby to Fresh Pond Mall. My roommate's room would also be smaller, since it is technically a 'den' and not a bedroom. Despite this, it can fit a queen size bed and dresser with some effort.
I already got approved for apartment A. I would still have to apply for apartment B, but it requires an application deposit. Both apartments are within my roommate's and I's combined income budget, but she prefers apartment A and I prefer apartment B.
Which is the better apartment to choose in this situation? I am also the one paying majority rent/signing the lease so I'm not really sure what to decide on. Is apartment A even worth it? Is apartment B worth it if I pay almost $200 more in rent each month? My monthly takehome pay alone is already 6k so does it really matter in the grand scheme of things?

Starts out showing the main character hooking up with women at parties while his friends cheer him on. He’s clearly a womanizer. He takes a girl home that lets him take nudes of her and he posts them on Twitter the next morning. The girl and her friends are obviously pissed. We learn about the friend group which is the main character, a heavier set friend who’s married, and a very weird friend that seems obsessed and jealous of the main character. Also, the main characters father is dying and the main character has taken in his cat for him. While the friends are hanging out in the garage the weird friend jokes about shooting the cat with a paintball gun and main character says he better not. The next morning he finds the cat has been shot with a paintball. He goes inside where the weird friend is sleeping on the couch and beats him up. The main character meets a woman at a bar and is really into her and they start dating. His weird friend seems very put off by this because he likes watching the main character hook up with women at parties. The weird friend goes to the new girlfriend’s college dorms and tries to tell her that the main character asked him to pick her up. She’s not buying it and tries to call the main character to confirm but the weird friends stops her and ends up chasing her back to the dorm entrance. Main character shows up and tell him to leave. While at a party with the new girlfriend the main character finds out that she is close friends with the girl whose nudes he posted at the beginning of the movie and was planning to have him jumped at this party. The new girlfriend says she really likes him and didn’t want to go through with the plan. He leaves upset. During this time the jealous friend has been manipulating the married friend and making him believe that the main character has slept with his wife and they should get back at him. When the main character arrives home some time later and his friends are already there. The married friend is crying and the jealous friend shows him a video that shows that they kidnapped the new girlfriend and raped and beat her in his bedroom. The main character goes ballistic and murders both friends and finds the new girlfriend tied up. He unties her and the movie ends with him covered in blood asking her if she’s okay and her being too shocked to speak.

Throwaway for privacy
What are my options besides breaking the lease? I am new to Texas so don’t know the laws here yet, and am in an area where decent apartments are few and far between and I would rather them provide me a space either at this complex or one of the others they own at the same rate until my leased unit is available, or for them to pay the difference between a hotel cost and my monthly rent while they figure this out.
They said there was a 2 bedroom unit available at one of their sister properties, but I would have to sign a new year-long lease for it, stay there for the year and no option to assume occupancy, and pay the higher rate, which is unacceptable to me. They would not agree to give it to me for the price I signed the one bedroom for temporarily until I can move into the original location.
My current place has also already been rented out, and staying longer there is not an option, besides the fact that it costs twice as much as it’s a ‘corporate’ rental.
Relevant portion of the lease below, and I also have not been provided with written notice yet, only verbal.
Delay of Occupancy. We are not responsible for any delay of your occupancy caused by construction, repairs, cleaning, or a previous resident’s holding over. This Lease will remain in force subject to (1) abatement of Rent on a daily basis during delay, and (2) your right to terminate the Lease in writing as set forth below. Rent abatement and Lease termination do not apply if the delay is for cleaning or re- pairs that don’t prevent you from moving into the apartment. 8.1. Termination. If we give written notice to you of a delay in occupancy when or after the Lease begins, you may termi- nate the Lease within 3 days after you receive written notice. If we give you written notice before the date the Lease begins and the notice states that a construction or other delay is expected and that the apartment will be ready for you to occupy on a specific date, you may terminate the Lease within 7 days after receiving written notice. After proper termination, you are entitled only to refund of any deposit(s) and any Rent you paid.

My [32f] mother [68f] and I share a two bedroom apartment. She used to have a much better job but due to age, limited English it has beendifficult to find consistent work. Even though she is healthy and good at what she does. She is likely healthier than I am.
She has now found work, but the issue is she doesn’t have a car. Whenever possible I have set my schedule so I can pick her up and drop her off. I often leave an hour earlier just to drop her off. Any shopping or errands she does with me. Whenever I can’t take her to work she’ll take Uber. Recently she started taking the bus back home. I have been dropping her off.
But now has found more work which is great but it’s further away. These days I have been dropping her off still but im about to start a new job and that won’t be possible. I feel bad that she would have to rely on public transportation, but taking Uber is too long expensive. It’s almost pointless for her to have extra hours if she’s just going to spend it on Uber.
She just hates the bus and she’s anti social which makes her hate it even more. I get it, which is why I help when I can.
She been making so little and so much of the weight has fallen on my shoulders these past few months. I lost a child I loved like my own last year and this money struggle hasn’t allowed me to grieve properly. Have so much debt. And just trying not to break down and get ready for my new job. I’m exhausted.
She gets defensive everytime I talk to her about the transportation situation.
I’m not expecting her to take the bus forever or work forever. I am hoping with my new job I’ll be able to help her, but I need her stop spending unnecessarily just for a couple of years. I need to focus on paying that debt and when that happens, she can work less or work the same hours and possible her herself a car.

I (43F) share a two bedroom apartmemt with my roommate (29M). We have been best friends for years. This the 4th year we have lived in the apartment and he recently got into a serious relationship. I suffer from BPD, PTSD, ADHD, anxiety and depression. I can be alot i am aware. Over the years my roommate and I have had a few fights due to my mental illness. I am not perfect. We have always been able to have discussions that settle things and resolve the isses at hand. But since the gf discovered him and I had a past. She has demanded he tell her everything. Including when i have my episodes. I understand being in a relationship. You want to keep communication and have that need to vent. But she only knows his side. He refuses to let me explain my side. She unfairly hates me as a result. Recently she came to spend time with him. I was unaware of her dislike of me. So when coming home from work that day. Was met with silence, no eye contact and a bolt to the door using my roommate as a shield, when i simply said hello. When i tried to inquire what that was about. I was told only after she left that she hates me for how i treat him. I again tried to offer to have things hashed out. He kept refusing saying she doesn't want to. Then a few days later told via text. That i disrespected the relationship because of telling him in a PRIVATE conversation between him and I that seeing them together drudged up old feelings I use to have. She told him that i "made a move on him" incorrect. I was being honest with him and talking out my thoughts and feelings like we always have done since we became friends years ago. I am frustrated because I told him. That if she cant be respeftful to me in my own apartment that i pay for. I am not comfortable having her there when i am home. He in no uncertain terms has told me thats too bad. Your feels dont count. She my gf. She can do what she wants. Which is going to set me off into a serious triggering spiral...if I can not feel safe in my own home. Without some girl being rude to me. I will confront her. I will end up saying things that she wont want to here. He refuses to empathize as my friend. Its to the point he actually is siding with her and is hostile towards me. Losing a friend is hard enough but losing them because her gf hates me when she doesn't even know me. Its gut wrenching. I cant afford to move and i dont have a license nor a car. My job is close enough i can walk if need be. But i am thankful for family who give me rides. I am about to get a raise and be promoted at my job. Even with the raise idk if I can afford that place on my own and other apartments in that town are way more expensive. I know he wants to move. He truly sees me as the devil and that hurts more than anything. What do I do?

Skinwalkers in Rural Michigan
I recently purchased a 10,000 lumen flashlight to illuminate the surrounding woods as I walk my dog in the evenings. I have been hearing some strange noises at night, and I figured it would be nice to see everything that boxes me in as I walk Max, my dog. But boy was I wrong. I should have been afraid of what can't be seen outside the veils of my iphone flashlight. What was to be exhumed by my flashlight terrified me to my core. This happened a week or so ago, November, 2nd 2022, Harrison Michigan. The evenings were approaching abruptly now. It was only 8:30pm when I decided to take my golden retriever on one last shit walk before I got settled in for the night. At this time, in rural Michigan at least, it’s pitch black. I cursed underneath my breath as I opened the door and peered out. Fuck, chilly and dark. God, why haven’t I moved south yet? Max was timid this evening, which was so really unlike him. Very strange. The darkness emanating from outside my house poured in like a disease. It was void of any color. Upset about not replacing my porch light, I pulled out my new amazon special, this week it was a 10,000 lumen flashlight. Feeling its expensive metallic body in my hands felt exonerating, and the excitement to use it overthrew any bad vibes Max was giving. He whimpered as soon as the door opened, he then put his tail between his legs and shivered. I scoffed at his weak tendencies here, this was so unlike him. I turned this ungodly bright flashlight on and showed it forward. “For fuck sake look Max, nothing to be afraid of y-” I was cut off. My mouth gaped at what was in front of me. Shown in the powerful beam of the flashlight was a contorted lanky humanoid figure. It slumped down from a standing position and got on all fours like a person miming a frog. Then it jerked its head up and sniffed the air. Animistically. It turned its head and bored its stare right into my eyes. Then it darted into a bush on the edge of the woods. The edge of the woods that surround my entire house. I heard leaves crackle and watched the skin colored creature dissipate into them. I focused the beam of my light directly onto that bush. It was incredibly bright and the bush appeared like high definition from the immense light, especially in contrast to the oily blackness that surrounded me. The bush shaked ominously, like a predator was inside, shifting around. A familiar feminine voice came from that bush. “Please help me… oh god please help… help… help mee…” And the leaves rustled again. Max whimpered in terror and got between my legs. I grabbed the baseball bat that I kept beside the front door for just such occasions and held it beside my head in a “ready to whoop” gesture, the other hand on my flashlight. I shakily started towards the bush from my door. Max bolted inside, leaving me completely alone. “Helllppppp meee” the voice cooed. The soft feminine coo of the voice crackled a little this time. Yeah, almost as if something was masquerading as a female, and luring me in. I was about 6 feet away by now, I could feel the blood pulsating in my temples. Goosh flesh ran down my body. “Helllpp,” deeper voice “Meeee!” An elongated ashy white arm flung towards me at ankle height. I instinctively stomped down on it. I heard cracking and sloshing from underneath my shoe. I stepped directly onto its wrist. I heard a shriek from inside the depths of that bush and the hand sprung up like a trap being set off. The strength possessed by this creature was unreal, it slung me to the ground and began to reel me into its bush where it resided. I screamed, smacked the arm with the bat as hard as I could and then lost control of the bat. It fell next to me as I was dragged closer to the bush, now my feet were inside the leafy abyss. The voice turned into my mothers voice. The clawed hands grasp on me tightened with tremendous strength and the nails dug into my skin through my pants. “Help me Nathaniel. Your mother needs help. I can't walk.” Yeah alright. I shined my light into the bush. What I saw still makes me tremble. It was my dead mothers face there alright, but atop an ashy white skinned humanoid skeleton with backward joints. The arms bent unnaturally opposite of how they should, the legs were bent like a frogs ready to pounce. The eyes were milky white, but were extremely intelligent and they gazed into my consciousness. With all of my force, I horse kicked my deceased mothers face and heard a massive crunch as my heel connected with her masqueraded nose. A profane yelp of pain blasted into the darkness of this B.F.E. where I lived. The grip on my leg loosened just enough from the blow for me to break free. I shot upright and turned to the door. I dropped my flashlight in this madness and couldn’t give a shit less. It could keep it for all I fucking cared. I bolted towards the door, and as I reached the halfway point I was Illuminated by a blinding bright light from behind. Almost like a spotlight beamed right onto me. My. Fucking. God. That thing had my flashlight and was pointing it directly at me. “Helpp… Nathaniel. Help me son.” The light started to bob up and down. Whatever was holding it was lurking closer and closer to me, and was gaining on me much faster than I was to the door. So much for not being able to walk. I ended up winning the foot race miraculously. I jumped inside my door and slammed it behind me. I heard a loud thump into the door immediately following its closure. My mothers late voice came again, beckoning me. “Son. You know your mother has taught you better than this. Let me in. Please, my son.” The light shone through the window at me, blinding me. Seeing spots and now disoriented, I fumbled myself up and managed to lock the door. Max was at the furthest point possible from the door, glaring at the door trembling in fear. Three solid knocks from the top of the door frame. Then the light was gone and I heard a metallic clunk, the thing must have dropped the flashlight on its retreat. The light now was gleaming off a huge tree. I watched a tall skinny humanoid creature with long contorted ligaments jerkily run towards that tree. His legs bent opposite of how our legs do, and same with the arms. Then it bent down in the same erratic way that it moved, and got onto all fours as it approached the tree. It paused a second and peered up the trunk. His head swiftly snapped to my face. Its now black and sunken eyes stared into my soul. I froze in terror as it climbed that trunk, with its face directly bored into me mind you, like squirrel. Scurrying right up it, never leaving contact with my eyes. The light undoubtedly should be blinding his vision, but the sense of intelligence of it knowing my existence was uncanny. Light didnt hurt it. As it ascended it smiled at me, a predatory grin. It disappeared into a purple dot that was still in my vision from when I was blinded by the flashlight. As I moved my head to try to see the creature, I watched tree leaves russell and saw no more of it. Yet. I locked the doors that night and cleaned up Max’s accidents from not going out. At night as I was asleep, I was awoken by my mothers soft voice from right outside the bedroom window. “Let me in Nathaniel..” Then directly following this motherly imitation came a 10,000 lumen flashlight beamed into my face. I heard the window slowly open, but I was blinded by the light.

So after a bit of waiting we finally got my second set of chemical treatment for my apartment completed after a resurgence in bed bugs (our first problem came around September of last year) and by mistake, or rather not thinking too into it, we lightly mopped the floors of our bedrooms with pine sol mixed with water when we were able to return home as the smell was too much for us. Looking back at the instructions they gave us in an email a long time ago not mopping for a week was the very last thing stated, but not one of the ones bolded; I hope it's not too much of an issue! I see online that some sites say just not to mop within 4 inches of the walls, which we did not do.
How screwed are we?
I have bedlam plus and crossfire ordered now because I'm freaking out and they're coming Sunday and Monday, respectively. The treatment company my building provides doesn't open until Sunday. Should I give them a call then? My family members refuse to have to leave the house another time (we also have one that's difficult to take out for long periods), can we avoid this? They did drill into the walls and stuff along with spray all of our furniture, should that be fine along with the bedlam/crossfire?
I apologize if this comes across as ramble-y, I'm just panicking right now. We were never told directly not to mop or anything so I'm hoping this is fine.

I (25f) have been living with my friend, Kate (32f) for about 2 and 1/2 years now. Kate owns the home that me, her boyfriend, and another friend live in together. It's something like an artist residency on a 73-acre piece of land inclusive of a 5-bedroom house and a separate garage that we have renovated. Shortly after I moved in, Kate and her then husband began the process of getting a divorce after a traumatic event occurred that deeply impacted each of us living there. Kate has struggled with her divorce, and I have struggled because of the impact of the event. Either way, we became incredibly close, and we worked to rebuild this home and land into what she/we had always dreamed of. I've spent thousands of dollars on new furniture, rugs, desks, etc., which was entirely my choice and never an ask of Kate, but I did it for the sake of our "community" and to help fulfill the dream of what this house and land could become.For the past 6 months, Kate and my relationship has felt off. The closeness we had, which in part was due to the aforementioned traumatic event, dissipated somewhat rapidly. I didn't know why, but I could feel it happening. While traveling in mid-May, I received an email from Kate that explained she was moving into a new era and wanted to know what her home felt like without others living in it. She stated that she would like me to leave by the end of July. She sent a similar email to the other person living in our home. Luckily, I was accepted to a grad program four days after her email. Otherwise, I wouldn't have anywhere to go.
Once I returned to the house, we had a conversation about the email. I said I wished we could have initially talked about this in person, and that a 2 month deadline felt inconsiderate after everything we had been through together. I began to say, "I know that isn't your..." At which point, she interrupted and finished the phrase saying, "That isn't my responsibility!" Which, of course, I know. Aren't we responsible to our friends in some capacity though? Shouldn't we try to consider their circumstances? I guess I just expected her to consider or even ask about my circumstances since we are friends who've been living together 2 and 1/2 years. When I said this to her, she responded saying that she's been asking about my future plans for years. It is true that she has asked me about my life plans in past years, but she certainly hasn't recently, since the distance between us became noticeable. Which is why she didn't know that I had even applied to a grad program. I understand that this is Kate's home, and she has every right to give me a deadline to leave. I don't think her boundaries with her ex husband were ever genuinely respected, so I think now she's trying to overcompensate by over-enforcing them. I guess I feel like I'm the asshole for being upset with / disappointed in her, but I don't know.
Edit - I'd like to add that Kate is incredibly critical of landlords and is very much a leftist, utopian dreamer. Which is why her behavior surrounding this feels especially bizarre. I also do pay rent to live here.

I’ve been waiting to talk about this. I’ve been looking for others with similar experiences, or… I dunno. Maybe I hoped I was insane. Months have passed, and I still don’t have the slightest idea what to believe. But no matter what is true and what isn’t, the memory of what happened to me is as true as can be.
And every time I put my hand to a door, I tremble.
​
I was looking for a house in the surrounding area. I know, being a homeowner at 27 seems like a dream. I know I’ve been fortunate. Even so, I wanted something remote, spacious, and comparably cheap.
I’d been looking for something nearby, but everything even close to a larger city quickly ran out of my price range. It wasn’t until I started looking at the rural outskirts that I started to see something realistic.
I’d been to four open house showings in the past week when I came across an ad that looked too good to be true. Another open house, but this one was just perfect. Apparently, they were looking to make a quick sale after a previous deal had fallen through.
​
I made my way to a small nearby town called Tomskog. There was a little billboard with a blue sunflower greeting me, and I took a hard right down a street named “Sunplenty Road”. There were only five houses there, and the one I came to look at was at the far end. Even from a distance, I could tell I wasn’t the only visitor.
I parked on the street outside and took in the sights. There was an “Open House” sign outside, again with the sunflower logo. There was a separate garage, and the house itself was smaller than expected. Homely, but small.
I was greeted by a cheerful man. He had thick glasses, a receding hairline, and the kind of “fun uncle” smile that told me he could get away with anything.
“Come on in,” he said. “You’re gonna love it.”
​
There was me, the realtor, and three other people. A middle-aged couple, and a younger woman. She had this messy black hair that kept poking her in the eye. Even at a glance I could tell the young woman was distraught. She wasn’t even looking around the house, she seemed more interested in the people wandering about.
The house had a simple and open layout. The bottom floor had a bathroom, a separate study room, an adjoining kitchen, and a lounge area. There were stairs leading to a sort of catwalk on the second floor, making the main room wide open. The second floor had another bathroom, a bedroom, and a guest room.
It had this sort of sullen 70’s vibe with grey and white flower-patterned wallpaper. There were little scuffs and tears pretty much everywhere, but the house itself seemed… fine.
​
The realtor, Anders, showed me all the details of the kitchen. He assured me that most of the appliances were to be replaced before the next homeowner moved in, and proudly displayed the new garbage disposal. It was a nice enough setup, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the young woman standing outside the study. I got the feeling that she was standing guard.
As the middle-aged couple walked downstairs, they asked her they could have a look.
“No,” she answered, with a shrug. “You can’t.”
“Don’t mind her,” Anders the realtor smiled. “Of course you can.”
“No,” she insisted. “They can’t.”
Anders walked up to her and leaned in. His demeanor shifted. They argued back and forth, and I could hear her repeat, over and over;
“This is not what we agreed to.”
​
The middle-aged couple and I just looked at one another. While the realtor and the young woman argued, we introduced ourselves. I smiled and gave them my name. They were named Helen and Sebastian, or ‘Seb’ for short. Typical midwestern salt-of-the-earth kind of people. They were suffering from an empty nest and seemed to want a place to start over. They made no secret about being interested in the place, although Helen wasn’t sure about having no direct access to the garage. Seb, on the other hand, wasn’t sure about the soil. He wanted a proper garden, and the soil seemed ill-fit to sustain greenery.
“Still,” Helen smiled. “Best place we’ve seen so far.”
“Sure is,” added Seb, giving Helen a little shake.
​
Anders kept arguing with the young woman. I could overhear her name as Whitney, and she was not willing to cooperate. Finally, Anders just pushed past her, putting his keys in the lock.
“Right this way, we’ll just take a quick peek.”
“We’re not done in there,” she said. “You can’t just-“
“It was supposed to be packed up, Whitney. I can’t help that you’re late.”
“That’s not… please. Give me an hour.”
“You’ve had plenty of hours.”
He clicked the door open and pushed it in. The three of us gave Whitney an apologetic look as we stepped inside.
​
The study was a mess. Old clothes strewn across various furniture, loose papers and books haphazardly thrown across a musky desk. An entire wall of bookshelves full of textbooks, ranging from discrete mathematics to philosophical physics. I stood there for a few seconds, taking it all in. Whitney pushed past us, grabbing an empty box from the floor.
“Don’t touch anything,” she sighed. “Just… look at it, and leave.”
Anders leaned over to us, lowering his voice.
“You have to excuse her,” he whispered. “There were some… complications, with the former owner.”
“Oh, she’s… the, uh, the daughter?” Seb asked.
Anders nodded.
​
While Anders told us about the east-facing windows and the top-of-the-line air conditioning system, I couldn’t help but to keep my eyes on Whitney. She was rummaging through the desk, dropping mementos, pictures, and notebooks into one of her many cardboard boxes. I could tell she was sleep deprived. She kept yawning.
Helen seemed eager to just leave Whitney to her grieving, while Seb kept to the practical details. He checked the hardwood floor, the insulation on the windows, the wall linings for pests. At one point, he almost knocked over a coffee table, and Whitney came running. She caught a vase that was about to topple off the table.
“Don’t… don’t touch anything!” she cried out. “Just… if you have to be here, stay… stay still!”
“I’m, uh… sorry,” Seb said. “I was just-“
“Just go over there!”
She waved her hands around, shaking the vase. There was a little rattle coming from it.
​
She shook it again, and I could see the color fade from her cheeks. Carefully, she tipped the vase, and something dark plopped into her hand.
A large bronze key.
Whitney pulled her hand back, letting the bronze key clatter to the floor. She covered her mouth, forgetting how to exhale. We just looked at her having what seemed, to us, like a mental breakdown.
“Nobody move,” she gasped. “Nobody… do anything.”
​
We all just stood there. Helen and Seb barely breathed, and I was suddenly hyper-aware of how still my feet were. Anders wasn’t impressed. If anything, he was fed up with this. He rolled his eyes, and picked up the key.
“Whitney, I’m sorry, you’re gonna have to wait outside.”
“Please, put… put that down.”
“You can put it with your things and take it outside.”
“Just… don’t move, you don’t know what you’re-“
Anders opened the door, stepped out of the study, and headed straight for the front door. Whitney dropped everything and ran after him. The rest of us followed suit.
“Wait!” she called out. “Please wait!”
​
As soon as Anders put his hand on the front door, Whitney stopped dead in her tracks.
“Anders, please, I’m sorry,” she said. “Just step away. Give me the key. I’ll leave, I promise. I swear.”
“That’s enough of that.”
“No!”
​
He opened the door and took a step forward. The bronze key passed the threshold.
​
We’d all stepped into the main lounge by now, and I heard the door to the study slam shut. There was a sort of pressure shift, making the wind move through the main lounge. Every door in the house slid shut with a click. All except the front door, which was wide open.
But there was nothing there.
Not nothing as in no one standing there. No, nothing as in “a nothing”. Just a blank, black space.
A viscous fluid where sunlight ought to be.
Endless, abyssal, ocean.
​
I stared at it, mesmerized. The contrast of the bright sun coming in from the windows, bouncing off the ripples of this deep ocean doorway.
And there, in the dark, humanoids. Tall, elongated silhouettes.
Anders stepped back, but it was as if parts of him refused to move. His arms were locked in place, seemingly by an invisible force. And as he stepped back, something started pulling him in.
His limbs grew long and twisted. His knees bending and snapping at impossible angles. His scalp pulled backwards, the loose skin of his face revealing the bottom white of his eyes.
“He… help!”
It was all he managed to say, as he was pulled into the dark. Limbs were quietly ripped from his sockets, as his human frame was bent, twisted, torn, and mangled. Black water mixing with marrow as dark shapes turned Anders into what resembled an underwater cloud of flesh and cloth.
Whitney threw herself forward, slamming the door shut, leaving the bronze key on the floor.
​
Screams erupted, and I didn’t even notice they were mine. It was this primal force being pulled out of me, this need to scream. Like a baby desperate for her mother. Helen backed into a corner and sunk to the floor, with Seb trying his best to comfort her. Whitney just sat there looking at the bronze key; her face breaking out in cold sweats.
I felt something turn in my stomach and headed for the bathroom. Whitney ran after me, but she couldn’t make it in time. I burst through the bathroom door and collapsed on the floor, hyperventilating. Whitney stayed outside, looking at me in shock.
“It’s… you’re… you’re fine,” she said. “You’re okay.”
I wasn’t. But compared to Anders, panicking on the bathroom floor seemed like a mercy.
​
Whitney stayed with me as I calmed down. Seb and Helen joined us. After a few minutes of silence, Whitney excused herself. She came back with pile of notebooks. She sat down across the hall from me, making sure not to enter the bathroom.
“My dad, he… found something,” she said. “I wasn’t sure exactly what.”
“We should… we should leave,” said Helen. “We should leave right now.”
“We can climb out a window,” said Seb. “If the, uh… the door is…”
“Just… please,” sighed Whitney. “Just stay. We’ll figure it out.”
“I-I mean no offense,” said Helen. “But what… what on earth was that?”
Whitney turned the notebook to a specific page and read aloud.
​
“I’ve been marooned in this house for thirty days. I never know where the Door is. Sometimes I can hear water, sometimes not. I tried the windows, but it nearly burst my eardrums from the pressure as water came rushing in. I can’t leave. I can’t move. They wait behind the Door. They wait for me to open.”
​
Whitney scratched her head. Helen looked back and forth, as if waiting for something to make sense. Seb just shook his head.
“What… what does that even mean?” asked Helen. “What happened?”
“It has to do with the doors,” Whitney explained. “They wait behind the Door.”
“There’s nothing there,” said Seb. “There’s light coming through the windows.”
“It’s… it’s not that easy. It’s when you open it.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
​
Whitney stood up and handed Helen three notebooks.
“We can argue the details of dad’s quantum entanglement experiment later, but that’s not gonna help us.”
“So… let’s just go then,” said Seb. “Let’s leave.”
“You wanna take your chances on the front door? That it won’t come back? Go ahead.”
Seb took a few tentative steps up to the front door. Helen wanted to protest, but she just started looking back and forth. Whitney crossed her arms and turned away.
“I can’t hear anything,” said Seb. “Are you sure it’s there?”
“It’s somewhere,” said Whitney. “I don’t… I don’t know the rules. It has to do with the doors.”
​
I got up off the bathroom floor and looked at them. Seb took his hand off the front door and stepped back. Whitney turned her attention to me.
“You put yourself at risk,” said Whitney. “That could’ve killed you.”
“The bathroom?”
“The door to the bathroom. Any or all of these doors, it… it could be connected. Here, let me-“
Whitney walked up to Helen and took one of the notebooks back. She turned to one of the latter pages.
​
“The framework of passageway. Concept of thought. Paired in alignment, the darkness standing shy from the mirrored back of Empyrean. Realm unwilled and unbound, misshapen by collective subconscious. We cannot pass, our world-forgotten blocks dissipated. Like a bridge cannot be built of water, and a house cannot be built of wind. But the great craftsman blames not their tools; and eternal gold can be found in humble bronze.”
​
“Bronze,” I said. “Like the key.”
“Look, my dad, he… we weren’t on speaking terms. I’ve looked at all this for days, and all I can tell is that he was off his rocker. He died in that room.”
Whitney pointed to the study. Helen hugged Seb tight, holding back a sob.
“He couldn’t leave. He was convinced that the… the door would eat him.”
​
Helen sat down by the kitchen table. Thankfully, there was no door in-between the kitchen and the main lounge. Seb walked straight up to Whitney, grabbed her by the collar of her blouse, and slammed her up against the wall; his calm demeanor cracking at the seams.
“We shouldn’t be here,” he said. “This is your fault!”
“I-I didn’t know! It was all just ramblings! I didn’t have time to clear it all out, how… how could I have known?!”
“You recognized the key,” said Helen. “You chased after him. You asked him to wait.”
“That’s the only part that keeps coming back!” Whitney yelled. “Check the notebooks! The key, it’s… it’s everywhere! It’s everything!”
“So what do we do?” Seb asked. “Do we use it or destroy it?”
Whitney looked at the pile of notebooks she’d managed to gather from the study. It was only a handful of everything we’d seen in there, but it might be enough to get some semblance of an answer.
​
The house had six doors. The front door, the bathroom door, the study room door. On the top floor, there was another bathroom door, a door to the guest bedroom, and the main bedroom door. The bathroom door on the bottom floor was already open and considered safe. I could step in and out without a problem.
Whitney explained as best as she could.
Her father had grown increasingly paranoid since divorcing Whitney’s mother. He’d locked himself in his house, committing fully to his studies. He’d always been a bit agoraphobic, and having a reason not to leave the house was a bit of a blessing in disguise. But over time, that blessing turned into a curse. An early entry read;
“For years, I’ve longed for the presence of mind to devote myself. And now that I can, I find myself wanting. I can’t be certain. There is a Door, a passage. It binds itself seemingly spontaneously. There is a risk involved, and it is a risk I cannot take.”
​
Seb tried to call for help, but water started pouring out of his phone. Whitney found a page about “semi-passages” or “shortcuts”. Things that could be used as portals to another person or place. They weren’t as conceptually clean as a door, and thus wouldn’t invite “Them”, but the connection would go through that dark place. The place that, somehow, her father had stumbled upon.
I looked at the key for a long time. I didn’t dare to touch it. It was unassuming, in a way. It was old and had this sort of blocky texture; like it was made of little squares. While Helen and Seb rifled through notebooks, Whitney looked up and talked to me.
“He just wanted a way to go wherever he wanted, without having to traverse the space in-between. To just go from one door to another. All he needed was a key.”
“But why now? Why is… how are we trapped?” I asked. “We got in here just fine.”
“The realtor,” sighed Whitney. “He tried to leave with the key. I think that triggered it.”
“So how do we un-trigger it?”
Whitney shrugged and pointed to the notebooks.
​
We had endless discussions. We compared notes, drew out theories. Helen thought we could force the bronze key out a window, but Whitney theorized that it’d just leave us locked inside. I suggested we listened at each door, just to eliminate which ones were safe and which weren’t. We tried, but there was seemingly no way to tell. Sometimes I could hear rushing water on the other side. Scratches on the wood. Other times, nothing. Even going back to the same door, it’d sound differently each time.
We considered opening several doors at once. We spread ourselves out. I was at the upstairs bedroom door, right next to Seb by the guest room door. Whitney was downstairs by the study door, and Helen insisted on the front door. We all put our hands on the handles. I wasn’t sure if I could hear something on the other side or not; my heart was pounding too loudly.
There were six doors. Five were closed, one open. Someone was probably going to die.
“There is only ever one Door. He only speaks of it as a singular. It can change over time,” said Whitney. “This is our best shot.”
“We can’t know for sure,” said Seb. “And why do we even want to open them all? There’s nothing in the bedrooms, right?”
“We’re excluding,” I said. “Like we did with the downstairs bathroom.”
“We should close it,” said Helen. “Shouldn’t that improve our chances of… of our other doors being okay?”
“I have no idea,” sighed Whitney. “Are we doing this?”
Seb backed away from his door, taking the hand off the handle.
“It ain’t right,” he said. “None of it. It ain’t right.”
​
Everything erupted into an argument. Seb couldn’t bring himself to risk his life for anything less than an exit, and Helen couldn’t stop crying at the thought of that dark abyss. I couldn’t blame her. To this day, I can’t stop imagining it. Whitney, trying to act as a voice of reason, read aloud from one of the notebooks.
“The concept of the passageway, the Door, changes at the flick of a thought. An alien thought, like an invisible, uncontrollable shadow of the psyche. It refuses to be controlled. My exit could be my end; or as likely, a wooden frame. Much like we cannot control the smoke of a campfire, we cannot foresee the turning of the passageway.”
We all looked at one another. Helen collapsed by the front door, crying. Whitney was close to a mental breakdown. I felt this enormous burden settle in my stomach, like I was missing something.
​
“Let’s take the door off the hinges”, said Seb. “We’ll turn it into a… an arch. Then it ain’t a door anymore. You think that’ll work?”
“In theory, maybe,” said Whitney. “But how do we do that without opening it?”
“We’ll… we’ll take the whole frame off,” Seb said. “There’s a crowbar under the sink. Saw it when I checked the garbage disposal.”
Helen bent down next to the sink, put her hand on the kitchen cabinet handle. I gasped.
Was that considered a door? Could it kill her? Would it?
​
I imagined that dark, cold abyss. That enormous force pulling me in, turning my very form into this unrecognizable mass. Where no screams can be heard. All I’d have to show for such unimaginable anguish would be a burst of bubbles; then nothing.
“No!” I cried out. “Stop!”
But it was too late.
​
Nothing happened. Helen opened it, pulled out the crowbar, and that was that. But for a brief moment, I realized how Whitney’s father must’ve felt. That uncertainty, not knowing for sure if that one flick of the wrist would be damnation; or nothing.
Helen handed the crowbar to Seb, while Whitney gave me a pat on the shoulder. I couldn’t stop crying. My whole body was shaking from the sudden rush of adrenaline. Meanwhile, Seb walked up to the front door and started tapping the wood.
The theory was this; if there was no door, nothing could come through. There was no point in doing a test run, because if it didn’t work, someone would lose their life either way. It was better to have an honest chance of getting out.
Whitney gathered towels. She had this idea that, maybe, water might start leaking if the door was turned into a semi-passage, like a window. If so, we might have to find a way to quickly stop the flow.
By the time we got the towels, Seb started working on the door frame. As that first crack rang out, I heard a click.
​
The front door slid open.
​
Without a moment’s thought, Seb pushed it close. It had barely opened an inch.
We all held our breaths. We were fine. Nothing was happening.
​
“It’s… it’s clear!” Helen called out. “There’s nothing there! I saw it, it… it was nothing!”
“It can change!” Whitney yelled back. “We can’t take that risk again!”
“Like hell we can’t.”
Seb put his hand on the front door, but Whitney tackled him. The crowbar fell to the floor as Helen rushed forward to help.
“Listen!” Whitney yelled. “Just listen!”
​
A rumble, like a great whale passing in the distance. It was right there; on the other side of the front door.
Without a word, they all stood up and backed away. The door shook from the passing force. Something was definitely there.
“Then… then the rest should be fine,” said Seb. “We can get to the study.”
Whitney nodded, and the two of them burst into a sprint. Helen wasn’t convinced, but didn’t know what to say. Whitney dropped her crowbar, and as she bent to pick it up, Seb opened the door to the study.
​
Darkness.
“…no.”
Panic exploded. Helen grabbed his arms, trying to pull him out. Whitney crawled backwards, closing her eyes and covering her ears. I couldn’t watch. All I heard was Helen, screaming his name, over and over. There was a gargle. A scream turning into an inhuman screech, like a burning pig.
“Sebastian!” Helen kept repeating. “Sebastian! Sebastian!”
There was a click, and then nothing but crying. I looked up to see Helen collapsed against the study door. It had slid shut from the pressure on the other side.
“I’m… I’m coming, Sebby,” she cried. “I’m… I’m-“
She opened the door again.
And there was the study, just as we’d left it.
​
Helen collapsed on the floor, curling up into a fetal position. She kept making this child-like yowling, scratching the surface of the hardwood floor, as if trying to dig Seb back into reality. But there was nothing left. Not even water droplets on the floor.
Then there were her arms. She’d held on until the door had slammed shut. Her sleeves were torn, and her arms bloody. Not much, but there were these round little suction marks. They were already bruising, with spots of blood poking through the skin.
I sat by Helen as Whitney started rifling through the study. There were more notebooks, more theories, more diaries. Notes about experiments, clever tricks, and attempts. So far, every idea to understand the rules were in vain. We couldn’t make sure. No matter what, we could never be truly sure.
​
Two open doors. Four closed.
​
I don’t know how many hours passed. I managed to get Helen to the couch, but she was inconsolable. She could barely comprehend words anymore. She didn’t blink, and she could barely breathe. There were no coherent thoughts in her mind, just… darkness. This awful, soul-sinking darkness.
Whitney propped up the open doors with books and towels, to make sure they wouldn’t accidentally close. All the while, she kept trying to convince herself.
“We keep opening them one by one,” she said. “If we can get it to manifest in one single place, and keep that door open, we should be able to leave by another.”
The sun had started to set outside. For all intents and purposes, this still just looked like a house. The windows were clear, showing the greenery outside. Maybe it was all a lie. Maybe none of it was really happening.
But looking down at Helen, and her unblinking eyes, I knew it was the realest thing I’d ever experienced.
​
“We… there’s three of us,” I said. “Four doors. We can’t make it.”
“No, that’s perfect,” nodded Whitney. “That’s… we open all but the front door. It manifests. Then we can get out through the one safe remaining door.”
“Unless we all die. There’s nothing that says it can only be in one place.”
“It is implied,” said Whitney. “If you got a better plan, just tell me. But unless you want to starve to death, we gotta-“
“Starve?” I interrupted. “Is that what…”
I looked back at the study, where Whitney said her father had died. No words were necessary. She took a deep breath and nodded.
“He couldn’t bring himself to try,” she said. “So we have to ask ourselves what we want. A long but certain death, or a violent risk at life?”
​
The fridge, the freezer, and all the cupboards had been cleared out. Whitney found some raisins for us to share while we pondered what to do. Helen couldn’t eat. She stared blankly ahead, waiting for her mind to come wandering back.
It was dark outside. Whitney rolled the bronze key between her fingers.
“I wonder how he did it,” she sighed. “He never made any sense to me.”
“Maybe it doesn’t make sense,” I shrugged. “At least not to us.”
“Then what made him so special?”
“Well, he did have a lot of books,” I said, reaching into a pile we’d gathered from the study. “Just look at some of these.”
“Astrology of Abraham, Channels of Esoteric Geometry…”
“I like this one,” I said, holding up a little red book. “Diary of Emmett Rask.”
“Right. But it doesn’t beat the…”
Whitney pulled out another book from the pile, turning it over.
“… the thirteen faiths of the blameless mother.”
I shook my head, looking over at Helen. A handful of raisins slipped between her fingers. She didn’t even bother closing her hand.
​
Looking back at Whitney, I sighed.
“You’re right,” I said. “We have to try.”
So we did.
​
We lined ourselves up on the top floor. Helen on the far right, near the bathroom. I was on the far left, by the guest room. Whitney was in the middle, by the bedroom. Helen didn’t understand. She just mimicked us.
“We’re gonna open on three,” said Whitney. “And no matter what we see, just run. Run downstairs, and just… go. Get out.”
I nodded. Helen didn’t.
“One.”
I tightened my grip. I saw Helen follow my lead, giving me an exhausted look. She could barely keep her eyes open.
“Two.”
I started doubting which way to turn the doorknob. I’d turned a million doorknobs throughout my life, but that was the first time I’d really thought about which way to turn it. I imagined myself hearing water. Bubbles. Distant rumbles. I tried telling myself that it was all imagined. Fake. Tricks of the mind.
But in my heart of hearts, I knew it wasn’t.
“Three.”
​
We opened our doors.
All I saw was a well-made bed. A bag of toiletries; probably Whitney’s. I left the door open and turned around.
​
Helen was smiling as the darkness welcomed her.
“Come on!” Whitney screamed. “Leave her!”
The door to the bedroom was open. Clear. But I was standing just ten feet away from an endless abyss. Helen looked at it, as if searching for something. She touched the surface with an outstretched hand.
“Seb, honey,” she cried. “Sebby, please.”
A pulse shot through her. I could see the hair on her arm stand up. Her veins turning black.
“Oh, Sebby…”
​
In an instant, her flesh unraveled as it flayed itself from the inside out. Her scream stifled as something pulled her in, leaving splotches of blood behind from the outline of her feet. A pained moan escaped her; only to be turned to harmless bubbles in the pressurized void.
Whitney grabbed me by the neck and pulled me downstairs. We ran to the front door. We looked back a final time, just to make sure it was still manifested upstairs.
It was still there. We’d sacrificed Helen, but we’d make it out.
​
Whitney pulled the front door open – and stopped.
Darkness.
​
We’d been wrong.
​
Whitney turned to run as an impossibly long arm grabbed the flesh of her back; straight through her clothes. It pulled her back.
I crawled away, not being able to close my eyes.
“Help me!” she cried out. “For God’s sake fucking help me!”
I shook my head, not knowing what to do. I’ll never forget those desperate eyes. The betrayal. The pleading. She fought every inch of the way. She dug her nails into the hardwood floor. She kicked. She pulled. She screamed. But for every second she stayed, the more painful it was.
With a final snap, the fingers dug into her spine; folding her like a lawn chair.
A lifeless body, dragged across the floor. Unceremoniously pulled into the dark with a quiet squelch.
And the door, slightly damaged by Seb and his crowbar, slid shut.
​
I was all alone.
The door to the guest bedroom and the main bedroom remained open. There was the bathroom and study downstairs. Just two closed doors left; the bathroom and the front door. Both closed. Both… wrong.
There was no right answer.
​
I must’ve stayed there for days. I found some trail mix in Whitney’s bag. I had water. I could shower. I had a change of clothes. I scoured the notebooks over and over and over, trying to find the slightest hint on what to do. There had to be some way of knowing for sure. There had to be.
It wasn’t until I came across a final note that I realized it was over. It read;
“By will alone, we cannot make ourselves right. Right is right, independently of our actions and intentions. We cannot control that which never was, and we cannot be part of that which will never be. There could be no more perils for me to face, and yet, I cannot bring myself to leave. There is no certainty in the unknown, and I choose not to live by chance alone.”
​
I cried myself to sleep at night. I banged on the walls. I even tried opening a window, only to have my left eardrum blown out from the pressure drop. Got a nasty nosebleed as well.
I tried reading. I tried making up little worlds in my head. I imagined myself safe and sound.
But it was useless. In those final hours of desperate loneliness, I knew I couldn’t fool myself any longer.
I was going to die.
​
I found myself with my hand on the front door. I learned every crease of the wood. The temperature of the metal handle. I listened to it. Studied it. At times, it was quiet. At other times, it wasn’t. Sometimes I imagined it quiet, other times, I imagined voices coming from the other side.
Maybe I wasn’t imagining it.
Finally, I grasped the bronze key. Starving, exhausted, and mentally broken – I opened the front door.
​
Sunshine.
And there, on the fresh-cut lawn, was another realtor.
Just as confused as I was.
​
So, turns out I was only in there for about 16 hours total. And to this day, no one seems to remember neither Anders, Seb, Helen, or Whitney. According to every document I can find, the owner of the house had no children. The cars parked outside were unregistered. On paper, it seemed like the entire world had forgotten that these people were ever part of this plane of existence.
I don’t think anyone’s lying here. There was a sincere disbelief and confusion to every piece of my story. To onlookers, I seemed like a squatter that’d gone insane.
I’ve tried to find anything about this. They won’t let me go back to read the notes. The investment firm who owns the real estate company swept it all under a rug and tore the place down. I suspect they were the ones who made the bronze key mysteriously disappear from the evidence room.
I’ve tried to find copies of the books I found in there. Some of them have been seen in passing on strange message boards, and one just keeps making my computer turn off whenever I try to google it. Who the hell is Emmett Rask anyway?
​
If anyone knew these people, or have heard about this phenomenon, please… I need to know I’m sane. I need to know this isn’t all a dream. I need to know I won’t wake up with my hand on that front door, having imagined living a life back outside.
This has to be real. I am real. There is nothing on the other side of the door.
Go ahead, listen. There’s nothing there.
It can’t be.
​
Can it?

I recently had a Bosch ductless heat pump installed. 1 large head on a outside condenser for the 1st floor main living room and kitchen and another outside condeser with 3 smaller heads in each bedroom approx 10x10'. Overall the house is about 800 sqft small 2 story slab on grade cabin. Spray foam and tight insulation. I was set on the mitshbubishi hyper heats as I live in Massachusetts and the temp drops to single digits in middle of winter this being my primary andnly source of heat. They were sold out and backorder so the company sold me on the bosch system which they said had similar technology. Well 3 months later 3 bills lager my electric usage has gone up over 1,000 kwh per month. This includes a Bradford hot water heater. Just myself an my wife. Question being I feel that 1,000 kwh close to 600$/ month to heat the house is insane for such a small house and the bosch system is not nearly equivalent to the mitshbubishi hyper heats in cold weather 0-20 F. I have tried everything to make this system work as it was installed for a primary source of heat with no back up. But for me its absolute garbage and my $200 window ac last year was more efficient. Any advice would be much appreciated as I feel I might scrap the system for the hyper heat. Wondering if the diffrence would be worth it. Thank you.

I was trying to do some research for furniture places. I came across a place called Furniture Land Ohio & mattresses. They have their own store front and online website.
I noticed they sell (or resell?) A lot of sets / individual pieces from Ashley Furniture for a fraction of the cost. I wanted to ask if this is trustworthy and if anyone had any experiences purchasing furniture from there. It does look very enticing. Is it a good place to buy bedroom sets and couches or any other furniture?
I am open to hearing any other recommendations as well.
Thank you very much!

Nestled in northern Lawrence County, Indiana, just six miles from Bedford, lies Ramsey Ridge Road. Just under three miles in length, the rural pathway once referred to as “Skin Ridge'' winds through the sparsely populated area’s dense woods atop a hill overlooking Little Salt Creek and nearby Bartlettsville. In the 1970’s, two completely unrelated deaths occurred within the confines of a modest green house that once stood along the ridge. Referred to by locals as “The Mysteries of Skin Ridge,” this is the story of the unusual deaths of Dennis McArthur, and Gerry Lee.
Dennis McArthur
On April 11, 1976, 44-year-old Pearl McArthur returned home after a lengthy stay at Madison State Hospital. Pearl, who would later be diagnosed with schizophrenia, had committed herself to the hospital in early December, leaving her 18-year-old son, Dennis, to care for the house in her absence. Accompanied by her 23-year-old daughter, April, who lived in nearby Bedford with her husband Gary, Pearl made her way inside the small two-story farmhouse.
Inside, Pearl and April found the home in complete disarray. Trash laid strewed about, lamps and furniture were overturned, and the stove was caved in, its exhaust pipe torn from the wall. It was unusually cold inside as though no heat had been recently used, and a strange smell permeated the air.
Alarmed, Pearl and April began to frantically search for Dennis. As they made their way over to a small couch located in a bedroom on the second floor, they noticed a pile of blankets lying on the sofa. As Pearl peeled back the layer of quilts, she was met with a horrific scene; Dennis’s decomposed body lay beneath the bedding. They immediately summoned police.
Dennis was found in a fetal position on the couch, facing inwards. Although covered by quilts, he was nude from the waist down. The coroner estimated he had died one to two months prior, however the cold weather had, in part, delayed the decomposition process making it difficult to give an exact time of death. During an autopsy, it was discovered that Dennis was severely emaciated, to the point of starvation. No evidence of external or internal injuries were found.
Police discovered several bottles of pills in the home; vitamins used for energy, an antidepressant, and a drug used in the treatment of Parkinson’s disease. All of the pills were prescribed to Pearl, and were still relatively full. A toxicology test was conducted and proved negative, however the state pathologist who performed the test admitted that the test was incapable of detecting substances such as LSD. He also explained due to the amount of time that had passed since his death, the tests might not be one hundred percent accurate. Dennis’ cause of death was listed as malnutrition and exposure.
Investigators found several clues at the scene that struck them as odd. Although the cabin appeared ransacked, nothing seemed to be missing, including a small amount of money that was found within the disheveled home. Along with money, a small amount of, now spoiled, food was found in the cabinets and refrigerator. An upstairs window was found to be broken from the inside. Also upstairs, investigators discovered several large pools of blood, including one beside the couch where Dennis’ body was found. They also found blood on the backside of the couch, on a rug, and on the kitchen door frame, along with splatter on a wall. Testing confirmed the blood to be human.
Dennis was well known to both police and the county’s social workers. His mother, Pearl, was frequently in and out of mental institutions leaving Dennis and his two siblings to fend for themselves. The children’s father, Walter, had abandoned the family and moved to Georgia years prior. In 1972, Dennis was arrested for theft and truancy. That same year, he was expelled from school and never returned.
He was again arrested in 1973, this time for driving without a license, fleeing from police, possession of alcohol, and curfew violation. After his release, Dennis was sent to live with a man named Al Hagopian, a case worker for the Youth Services Bureau. Al was quoted as saying; “Finding him a place to stay was hard. The house where he had been staying was pretty grubby, and the state thought he was too young to live alone. His mother was in and out of hospitals a lot and he worried about her constantly. He didn’t want to return home, but said he had to go back to help care for his mother.”
Al discovered that Dennis “read and wrote backwards,” and was “practically illiterate.” After reviewing Dennis’ school records, he found multiple instances where teachers labeled Dennis as having disciplinary problems when it came to schoolwork, however not once did they mention he had a clear learning disability. Al further explained that attempts to secure employment for Dennis were nearly never successful. Aside from being unable to read or write, he had no vehicle. He also had no stable address or phone number and was oftentimes dirty and dressed in near rags.
Dennis’ unfair hand he had been dealt did not stop him from trying to act like an average kid most of the time, Al added. He explained that Dennis had an interest in cars, enjoyed hanging out with his friends, and was always chasing girls. He had also told Al he wanted to someday save up enough money for a new guitar, as he loved to play music. Al admitted that Dennis was also into the “street scene” and had dabbled in drugs and alcohol. Dennis returned home after two months of living with Al.
In 1974, after another arrest and his subsequent release from a youth detention center, Dennis went to live with his father for a short time. Dennis’ arrest had made headlines when it was learned the young man had been kept with adult men for a long period before being transferred to the youth detention center. Dennis and Walter reportedly couldn’t get along, however, and Dennis ran away to Florida. He lived there for a few months, washing cars to make money, before returning to the home on Ramsey Ridge in Indiana in 1975. He was again arrested, this time in Bloomington, Indiana for carrying a concealed weapon, alcohol consumption, and curfew violation. At the time of Dennis’ death, the charges against him were still pending.
According to his sister, April, she had gone to visit Dennis at the home on Ramsey Ridge on Christmas Eve. April said Dennis was sitting on the couch, playing his guitar. He also showed her a new rug he had purchased for the home. According to her, he seemed his usual self and the home was clean. April offered him some money, however Dennis refused claiming he had enough to get by.
Lucy Lively, an aunt of Dennis’ who lived “within hollering distance,” claimed she entered the home on February 1st to turn off a lamp that had been left burning. While she did not see Dennis, she claimed the home's interior was in normal order. Joe McArthur, Dennis’ paternal grandfather who also lived nearby, said it was not unusual for Dennis to disappear for long periods, so he thought nothing of the youths' absence as of late.
When Walter, Dennis’ father, was informed of his son's death, he informed police that Dennis, along with two male friends, had come to visit him in Georgia in mid December. He gave a description of the two teens and told police they had been introduced to him as “John Boy'' and “Blonde John.”
Police were able to track down “Blonde John” who was identified as 18-year-old John Fonk of Bloomington, Indiana. John told investigators that he and Dennis had driven to Florida together in October, not December, as Walter had stated. John explained they had stopped by Walter’s home in Georgia on their way back home. He was confident in the date as he had joined the Air Force in December. He also explained that “John Boy” had been a hitchhiker they had picked up along the way. According to John, “John Boy” rode back to Indiana with the pair, but he had not seen him, or Dennis since. He described him as being in his mid 20’s. After learning of the discrepancy in Walter’s story, police again tried to contact him, however phone calls and letters went unanswered. Unfortunately, they were never able to identify “John Boy.”
Further questioning of social services showed that Pearl had filled several grocery orders provided by state services, however the orders ceased when she had been again hospitalized. Eventually the Lawrence County Welfare Office had taken control and promised to look in on Dennis, however they could provide no evidence they had followed up on the case. They suggested that Dennis, overwhelmed with his impoverished lifestyle, had simply starved himself to the point of being comatose, before succumbing to the harsh cold of winter. They were quoted as saying “We were aware of him of course, but he never came to us. We don’t go looking for people if they don’t come to us for help. Now if he had, we would have done something.”
The local sheriff as well as members of Dennis’ family were unsatisfied with Dennis’ listed cause of death and continued to pursue the investigation for several months. Unfortunately due to a lack of funds, more elaborate tests that may have presented some clue as to how Dennis died could not be conducted. Sheriff Robbins was quoted as saying, “This is a very disturbing mystery, because even if someone confessed to killing him, I doubt we would have the evidence to prove it. But it sure is hard to believe he could kill himself like that, by just laying down and dying. We aren’t closing the case, it will remain open. But until we have something more to go on, there’s not much more we can do at this point.”
Dennis was laid to rest at Heltonville’s Gilgal Cemetery. Few attended the modest closed casket funeral and subsequent burial. One journalist gave a last description of Dennis’ final resting place,
“The dogwood trees are in full bloom on the hillsides of Gilgal Cemetery, and though Dennis’ body now rests peacefully beneath a carpet of fallen petals, his soul will surely never rest until the reasons behind his death are discovered.”
Pearl, Dennis’ mother, passed away in 2000 at the age of 67. Walter, Dennis’ father, died in 1988. His sister, April, passed away suddenly in 2006 at the age of 53. Dennis also had an older brother, Gordon, who passed away in 1994 at the age of 42.
Gerry Lee
On the evening of May 28, 1978, police were again summoned to the little green house on Ramsey Ridge. The home was now occupied by 27-year-old Gerry Lee, a divorced self employed carpenter, and his roommate, 25-year-old Michael Davis. When police arrived, Michael informed them that Gerry had committed suicide.
Gerry was found hanging from a maple tree located 20 feet from the home's front porch. The rope had been tied off to a branch approximately 10 feet above the ground and fashioned into a noose. His feet were found to be touching the ground, and his knees were bent. Blood was discovered on Gerry’s hands and pants, despite having suffered no visible wounds. An autopsy would reveal that Gerry had died of asphyxiation as a result of a fracture to his cricoid cartilage located at the base of his larynx. The coroner stated this was not an injury normally associated with suicidal hangings, but instead blunt force trauma to the throat. Inside, more blood was found on a television set, the phone, and on the kitchen floor. A window on the home's back door had been broken from the outside, leaving shards of glass lying on the kitchen floor.
When questioned, Michael gave an explanation for the unusual findings. He claimed that he, Gerry, and two other friends, Mike Oakly and Roberta Chandler, had spent the day in nearby Bedford before the foursome returned to the home on Ramsey Ridge. There, Michael told police that he and Gerry got into a “friendly scuffle” that resulted in Michael falling into the window in the kitchen. He suffered a deep laceration to his forehead that left him bleeding profusely.
According to Michael, Roberta and Mike accompanied him to seek medical treatment in Bedford, while Gerry stayed behind at home. Michael returned home alone from the hospital, having left Roberta and Mike in town. It was then he discovered Gerry’s body and summoned police. He added that that evening Gerry had threatened to shoot himself multiple times with one of the loaded guns kept in the home.
When Roberta and Mike were taken in for questioning, they gave similar accounts of the night's events. Both were released. Aside from having a visible wound, medical staff confirmed Michael had been to the hospital that evening, having sought treatment for a laceration to his forehead.
Still, both the prosecutor and the county coroner stated they were not entirely satisfied with a verdict of suicide. The coroner stated “Some things have not fallen into place like they should with a suicide case. Although it looks as though it could be a suicide, there are so many angles that do not fit in with the suicide verdict.” The prosecutor agreed, “I’m not satisfied with how the investigation was handled,” he said, “and there are still a lot of unanswered questions. Several months later, Gerry’s case was brought before a grand jury who ultimately returned a verdict of “probable suicide.”
Gerry was laid to rest in Bedford’s Breckenridge Cemetery. Despite his death being declared a suicide, many locals, including Gerry’s friends and neighbors, continued to believe that something more sinister may have happened that evening, and the suicide was in fact staged. The community’s more superstitious elders shared a similar belief, however adding that a “strange ethereal force” inhabited the room where Gerry once slept, and where two years prior the body of Dennis had been discovered.
Whatever your opinion may be, it seems for some the books will never fully be closed on “The Mysteries of Skin Ridge.”
Sources
Newspaper Clippings, Death Certificates, Photos- https://imgur.com/a/4kQ3rEl
Find a Grave Dennis- https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/63100083/dennis-scott-mcarthur
Find a Grave Pearl- https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/254365281/pearl-m-mcarthur?createdMemorial=Yes
Find a Grave Walter- https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/80652726/walter-rufus-mcarthur
Find a Grave Gerry- https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/47074796/gerry-wayne-lee
National Library of Medicine- https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/22442828/#:~:text=Overall%2C%20neck%20structures%20fractures%20were,the%20cricoid%20cartilage%20of%2020.6%25.

Hi everyone!! I’d appreciate some help/ advice. I am very very very VERY sadly moving away from our fair city and was wondering if anyone has any recommendations for moving companies? I’m moving up to Southeastern Michigan and I’m trying to figure out what my best options are. I only have some bedroom furniture and two desks. Here’s what I’ve considered:
1.) full service companies? Movers to put the items in a truck, drive the truck to my next location, and then unpack there. This seems costly but I like the idea of removing the hassle? 2.) renting a truck myself and hiring movers here to fill it, driving the truck to my next location myself, and then hiring a different set of movers there. This seems more economical BUT I’ve never driven a large truck before and it makes me slightly nervous. But perhaps it’s fairly easy? 3.) because the initial quotes I’ve received have been so high, my dad is telling me just to hire a junk company to THROW EVERYTHING AWAY but like Jesus that seems like a waste of money as well?
Obviously it would be more ideal to just do the moving myself but due to my circumstances that isn’t really a possibility so I have to hire some sort of help.
Thank you in advance for the help!!! Any recommendations or thoughts at all would be amazing!!