Has he been living in a secret motel and just attending cheap Rockies games ?

Background

Incumbent Chris Stewart will resign on September 15, 2023 due to his wife's health issues. The primary is scheduled for September 5 and the general on November 21. The state legislature will reconvene for a special session on June 14 to allocate funding for the election and likely approve the governor's timeline. Candidates must gather 7,000 signatures. Filing deadline on June 14
The district voted 60R-34D in 2022 and has a partisan lean of R+11 (Cook) or R+23 (538). It stretches.svg) from the northwest of Salt Lake County, runs down the western border, and heads east, stopping at the Colorado River. It is 75% white, 18% Hispanic/Latino, 3% Asian, and 1.7% black.

Candidates

Republicans:

Becky Edwards

• former state representative
• Ran as a more centrist alternative to Lee in the 2022 Republican Senate primary and earned 30% (2nd place)
• Charged by the TPD (twitter police department) for being a RINO
• Website
• small government
• competitive and cheaper healthcare
• no culture wars
• immigration: balance safety and provide pathways for workers, especially regarding the agricultural and tourism industries
• childcare, workplace protections, paid family leave
• retain fossil fuels as we transition to greener energy
• free market solutions to climate change
• secure cheap and clean water while being mindful of our environmental future
• term limits (she left the state house after 10 years)
• second amendment supporter while encouraging initiatives regarding mental and behavioral health
• expand opportunity for minorities, inclusivity

Greg Hughes

• former speaker of the Utah House of Representatives
• ran in the 2020 Republican Governor Primary and earned 21% (3rd place)
• Website
• constitutional carry
• opposes red flag laws
• pro-life
• stopped Obamacare expansion
• eliminate food sales tax
• parent's rights
• "eradicate woke education"
• Oil, coal, natural gas

Scott Hatfield

• congressional staffer

Bruce Hough

• RNC member and former chair of the Utah Republican Party

Tyrone Jensen

• political podcaster
• Website

Henry Eyring

• Duke University professor

Jordan Hess

• Vice chair of the Utah Republican Party

R. Quin Denning
Remy Bubba Kush

Democrats:

Kathleen Riebe

• State Senator
• Website (former)
• smaller class sizes
• services to diverse populations
• preventive care
• expand medicaid
• clean public lands

Out there - Patreon (for all those curious or wanting to support :))
At the Beginning
Adventure Arc - Arc 2
Wilderness Arc - Arc 3
Academy Arc - Arc 4
Previously on Leveling up the World…
 
PERSONAL AWAKENING
​
Orange clouds floated on a purple sky. There had been a time when Dallion would have found such a sight breathtaking, or at the very least remarkable. Now, it was just another day in his realm. Sitting at the top of Onda’s tower, Dallion stared into the distance.
“Hey, old man!” the teen nymph shouted. “You’re messing up the look!”
If there was one person whose arrogance had grown along with Dallion’s it was Onda. The hammer guardian had always seen himself as a genius and, thanks to the Moonstone in the realm, his opinion of himself had grown even further.
“You’ve no idea how much time and skill it took to get it right!”
Funny. Up to today, Dallion hadn’t minded the attitude. In fact, he hadn’t even noticed it.
“I need some assistance,” he said, glancing down.
At the comment, the guardian froze. There was a spark of emotions within him that was quickly subdued.
“She said not to encourage you,” Onda whispered.
“Harp?” Dallion split into a few instances and looked around. “I won’t be doing anything reckless,” he said with a sigh. “It’s forging related.”
“Forging?” The guardian didn’t sound convinced.
“A while back, you said that there are more complicated things than crafting metals. I want to learn magic crafting.”
“Magic crafting?” Onda shivered slightly while saying the magic word.
“Whatever the proper term is. I know you can do it, so—”
“Can’t.” The guardian quickly interrupted. “She said no magic.”
“Seriously?” Dallion grumbled. “Harp!” he shouted in the direction of the harpsisword’s tower.
Other than a few waves, there was no reaction. Harp was determined not to meddle in his development, and that included not helping him with anything magic related, at least for the time being. After what had happened in Lanitol, Dallion would have thought that he’d be given a pass for reasonable requests. Apparently, that wasn’t the case.
In all honesty, his request wasn’t exactly safe or random. The thought of challenging the archduke’s son had made him remember the duel they’d had back in Nerosal, including the origami weapons the noble had used. Creating such a weapon would be very beneficial in more ways than one. For one thing, Dallion was considering upgrading Lux’s home. Having the firebird follow him about like a bladebow with kaleidervisto sights was starting to get bothersome.
“What about enchanting?” Dallion asked. “I’ve already done that many times.”
The nymph shook his head.
“That was temporary.”
Maintaining his calm exterior, Dallion waited for a short while longer, then left his realm. The first thing he felt was a wave of air hitting him in the face. Moments later, his senses returned to normal.
Normally, entering a realm while flying wasn’t the best of ideas, but it didn’t count while on a cloud fort. Initially, Dallion had wanted to avoid the fuss, but when the squad of furies within the cloud had offered to take them, the choice was made for him.
Aware of their emotions, he knew that the offer was extended mostly because of Diroh. While guard furies assisted mages, they rarely went out of their way to catch up to one mid flight. The rumors of her being royalty must have spread.
“You can rest a bit,” the fury told Dallion. He was a seasoned veteran who didn’t have time for all the rank bullshit. “We won’t reach the Academy till tomorrow.”
One additional day. If Dallion had continued flying on his own, he’d have been there by now.
“Any news?” he asked, suppressing a yawn.
“Where do I start? The Azures are gathering armies in the northeast. Mages too. I’m expecting a major clash in a month at most. The new archduke is also positioning her forces. Now that she’s been given the new spot, she can’t afford to mess up.”
It was tempting to crack a smile. It would be nice if Priscord got humiliated in the upcoming battle, but that was unlikely to happen. The emperor had picked her for the position, which meant that he’d back her up with some of his legions. Losing two archdukes in the same area wasn’t something that would look good.
“Lots of crimsons are also there,” the fury continued. “At least we get to enjoy the skies here for a while.”
Dallion nodded. He, too, was going to join them.
“A bunch of rogues formed a new enclave in the west. It’s out of the empire, so no one’s bothering for now. I told some of your lot that it’s a mistake. No one listened.”
“Someone will take care of them.”
The west, at least, was deprived of any presence. Only the Order was slowly spreading in that direction. No wonder the last Star had made his stronghold there.
“There’s been a few skirmishes in the southeast, but nothing major. The Alliance is keeping the Azures in check. Only minor kingdoms are poking about, trying to get themselves noticed by one of the powers.”
“Yes, everyone’s choosing sides.”
That was true and things were only going to get tougher. Settlements, cities, even small countries were quick to ally themselves to one of the three powers. Even before the war began, several of the minor players had made their intentions known. Most had allied to the empire. Now that its position was shaky, they were looking at the other options. It didn’t end with whole settlements either. Guilds and trade organizations had been moving about, going further to the heart of the empire or out of it. Even hunter dens weren’t immune.
Before leaving Lanitol, Dallion had flown by the structure out of a feeling of nostalgia. What he found was an empty lot. He had expected some of the hunters to have gone—there were many dwarves among them. Yet, the building was missing as well. A more optimistic person might have assumed that the hunters had found a way to take their den as they left the city. In reality, it had likely been absorbed by the overseer. Neutrality was a dangerous notion, especially if those proclaiming to be neutral were strong.
“Over a dozen ghost towns have formed on the border,” the fury said. “If they remain too long without a master, the wilderness will take them.”
“That’s how it usually works.”
The fury glanced at Dallion sideways, but didn’t add anything more. It was obvious he wanted to know more about the fury, just as it was obvious that Dallion had no intention of sharing. The moment of calm had given him a while to relax, and now that adrenalin had loosened its grip, less immediate concerns had resurfaced.
Prophecies, he said to himself. So far, he had heard two. The first had come from a nymph sheet acquired years ago. The dwarf hunter who had found it swore that an otherworlder would bring to the end to the world, or at the very least a substantial change. When combined with what Cleric had shared, the worst might have come to pass. It was Dallion who had made it possible for Adzorg to construct his device. If he found the final pieces, he might pop the barrier between worlds like a soap bubble, letting void creatures pour into reality unimpeded.
If there was nothing you could do, the Order wouldn’t have sent you, Gen said from Dallion’s realm. There’s no point in perfect prophecies.
There is if all you need to do is hide, Dallion replied mentally.
If you’re hiding, you’re not doing it very well.
Dallion smiled. His echo had a suitable sense of humor, even if it didn’t help particularly right now.
“What about vortex gleams?” Dallion asked.
“Vortex gleams,” the fury repeated. “There’s talk of a few out east. The crimsons will know more. They don’t tell the rest of us much.”
“Right.” Dallion leaned back in the sea iron mesh that served as a chair. “Wake me up when we get to the Academy. Don’t stop for anything until we get there, not even assists.”
“You’re the mage.”
If the flight was eventful, Dallion never got to learn about it. Over a day, he spent the time sleeping. To a large part, that was to diminish the fatigue that had stacked up in the last six months. More importantly, though, he was hoping to have a Moon dream. With the curse, he hadn’t been getting anything that might help. This time was no different, although it didn’t bring nightmares either. All it brought was a whole lot of blankness: Dallion closed his eyes one moment, then when he opened them again, he was a few hundred feet from the battle mage building. According to the armadil shield, they had been there for hours, but no one had dared wake him up.
How nice of them, Dallion thought and sat up.
The fury on guard was new—far younger than the previous one, tasked with keeping the cloud stable. Everyone else, Diroh included, was gone.
“Where’s everyone?” Dallion cracked his back. Sleeping on war clouds wasn’t as comfortable as people assumed it would be.
“Your novice was escorted into the building, battle apprentice,” the fury replied, using Dallion’s standard title. “All your things were moved to your room as well.”
“And the furies?”
“They were sent out on another cloud. Katka ordered that we leave you to sleep undisturbed, so—”
“I get the picture.”
Dallion cast a spell, rising up from the cloud. Without a word of thanks, he floated straight to Katka’s room on the upper floor of the building, then went inside. The magic symbols on the walls glowed brighter as he passed. Recognizing him as belonging here, they remained in their present state.
The moment he flew in, the room widened, increasing tenfold in size. This wasn’t normal. Katka wasn’t a fan of modifications, preferring to keep things as they were. Ironically, that made many of the Academy mages see her as a snob. In their eyes, illusions weren’t good enough for her, since she resorted to getting the actual physical thing and bringing it here.
The current modification spell had turned the room into a modern Earth corporate office. There was lots of space, full of desks, cheap plants, water coolers and a glass walled meeting room at the far side. Looking closely, Dallion saw four figures gathered there.
Just great, he thought.
The archmage was present along with Katka. The other two were silhouettes made of cloud matter and water, respectively. That meant that the entire Shimmering Circle had gathered to discuss something. Since Dallion had joined, there had been only one similar meeting. Back then, the “woman” Dallion had seen in Gassil’s memory fragment had also been there, even if no one had formally introduced her to him. There were a few more instances in which she had taken shape to discuss something with Katka. As for the last member, he remained completely unknown. Dallion was aware of his existence, but nothing more.
“Dal,” the archmage’s voice echoed throughout the room, as if he were using loudspeakers. “Join us.”
Taking a deep breath, Dallion made his way to the door of the meeting room and went inside. The conference table was large enough to hold eight people. The seat next to Katka was left free, indicating he was supposed to take it.
“This must be important.” Dallion said, using his magic vision in an attempt to see the people behind the constructs. He was able to see the magic threads connecting the forms to invisible portals, but not what lay beyond. “First time I see everyone gathered.”
The sharp look the archmage gave him quickly told Dallion to tone down the humor.
“We heard what happened down south,” the man said. “What are your dealings with the Order?”
“You know I can’t tell you that,” Dallion said calmly. “Moon vows and all that.”
“Convenient.”
“What I can say is that the Azures tried to take out the archduke.” There was a moment’s pause. “And myself.”
“You were targeted?” Katka asked, more surprised than intrigued.
“I guess Grym is still mad at me for last time. They managed to put echoes in a lot of the people at the banquet. Most of them were normies, but there were a few awakened… as well as the local mage.”
“We know,” the archmage said. “Would have been nice to bring one of them alive for questioning.”
“Wasn’t my fault. The archduke absorbed all the evidence. I did manage to get the mage’s robe, though. If there’s anything to be learned, I’ll find it.”
“Such a marvelous ability,” the cloud woman said. “Sometimes you make me envious.”
“That’s not why I called for this,” the archmage hissed. “A messenger arrived from the emperor himself. The vortex gleam that was spotted not too long ago wasn’t the only one. As it turns out, it’s only a drop in the bucket. There have been twenty-seven confirmed sightings, but unlike the last one, the levels are much higher.”
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this story, consider joining my patreon or check out my other stories on redditserials:
The Scuu Paradox (a Space Opera Sci Fi)
The Cassandrian Theory (a Space Opera Sci Fi)
The Impeccable Adventure of the Reluctant Dungeon (Dungeon Core Adventure Comedy)
Uncharted Waters (An Urban Fantasy Detective Noir)

Taking a road trip pretty soon with the family. We have food all planned out to make things cheap, but trying to figure out the most frugal way to sleep. We can't sleep in the vehicle. We had thought about tent camping, but wanted to drive as many hours as we could to lessen the amount spent on hotels/motels.
How do you save money on overnight stays? I already went through Expedia and other sites like it.

This is a case I'd come across on NamUs a while back before it was added to Doe Network in April last year and it hasn't gotten a lot of attention.
On March 15, 1975, the badly beaten and dismembered bodies of a man and a woman were found in the bushes 400 feet from Loop Road, officially County Road 94, 5 miles south of the Tamiami Trail in the Big Cypress Swamp of Monroe County, Florida. Both had been fatally beaten with a blunt object, cut in half, placed into 4 green garbage bags, and then the garbage bags were put into 4 unmarked canvas duffel bags. Their hands were missing, likely to prevent fingerprinting. The man was bound with a cord, and the woman was handcuffed (they were cheap Japanese-made handcuffs), both then being murdered "execution style". Both had been dead for 4 weeks by the time of discovery.
The man was white, 40-50 years old, 5'10" (estimated), 145-150 lbs. (145 lbs. estimated per NamUs), with reddish brown hair and possibly a beard. His eye color could not be determined. The woman was also white, 30-40 years old, 5'4" (estimated), 120-130 lbs. (125 lbs. estimated per NamUs), with light brown or blond hair. Her eye color was also undetermined. Neither had any distinguishing marks or features; the man was edentulous with healed-over gums, and the woman's teeth showed a lack of care in later years although she had extensive dental work done prior.
The man was wearing a white "Catalina" size M knit shirt and size 32 khaki or green L.L. Bean shorts with another label (store label per Doe Network) "Yodel Britches". The woman was wearing a white "Dunofold, Inc." v-neck athletic shirt with a red, white, and blue ribbed collar, a small black and gold eagle embossed on the left front, and a store label for Stan Smith in Mohawk, NY, size medium baggy white muslin calf-length pants, and red knee-high socks. Neither had any underwear or shoes.
The status of their DNA is unknown, and their fingerprints are not available due to their hands having been removed.
Investigators believe the couple were originally from the Northeast based on their clothes and possibly hippies due to their lack of underwear. The clothes definitely seem definitely northeastern to me but the lack of underwear alone doesn't point me towards them having been hippies.
As with many cases found in the Everglades and Big Cypress, there's a good chance they were killed in the urban areas along the East Coast (Miami, Fort Lauderdale, etc.) and then driven inland to hide their bodies although the West Coast (Naples, Fort Myers, etc.) shouldn't be ruled out either. (This isn't explicitly stated anywhere I've seen, but based on similar cases this is likely what I think happened.) Loop Road itself goes through the southern end of Big Cypress National Preserve and, to my understanding, doesn't see a lot of traffic apart from park visitors and hikers going to the Florida Trail, the southern end of which is directly on the road. Loop Road is also unpaved and some areas can get difficult to drive through with weather.
There are no exclusions for the man, but 2 for the woman: Pamela Nater (1966) and Brenda Lefler (1974).
Any ideas or theories on who they were, why they were killed, or who could've done it? Leave a comment if so.
Male: Doe Network/NamUs
Female: Doe Network/NamUs

The MAX is running like a proper Bus Rapid Transit line this weekend to help transport people to and from Taste of Fort Collins. It will run:
Saturday (5/10) 5:30 AM - 11:00 PM bus every 10 minutes
Sunday (5/11) 8:00 AM - 10:00 AM bus every 30 minutes 10:00 AM - 9:00 PM bus every 10 minutes
Please take the bus if you are going to old town and it is feasible this weekend. It will not only be easier since parking will be tight, but it will also let Transfort know there is actually demand for more regular service in town.
http://ridetransfort.com/abouttransfort/events?fbclid=IwAR1QQauuGKNCDBxNsdHfQ72Q1O_7DUFPpKG5rgAlrbzb82QWWoNHlkol7TY

Any ideas where I can get a decently cheap hotel in the nova area this Sunday? Most hotels/motels charge around $200 a night. Looking for half that. Thanks!

As the title states, can anyone recommend a good salsa verde in Fort Collins? Preferably a fresh one with medium spice. I just moved here from the Midwest, where I used to get the brand Jaffa 🤌 But they don't seem to have it here. So far I've tried both Delicias' and Kroger brand and haven't liked either. Any faves?

I'm new to the area and hoping to go somewhere fun to watch.

I'm moving from Maryland to Colorado Springs in about 6 months as my boyfriend has been stationed at Fort Carson and I'm hoping to get advice on where to rent. We're in our late 20s and have 2 dogs who I take to the dog park daily so ideally I'd love a neighborhood thats nice and safe to walk. We'd like a single family home with a fenced in yard. I also do orange theory multiple times a week before work so it would be nice to be close to one of the 3 in the area (Broadmoor, Academy, or Stetson Hills). He moved out there himself a month ago and he is in Broadmoor near the orange theory there in an apartment and I don't know if it's just his immediate area but I didn't love the neighborhood though I'd heard nice things about Broadmoor. Looking online it also looks like there are a lot of affordable homes for rent in Old Colorado City so I'm curious what that area is like. I'm a dentist and I haven't started looking for jobs yet but I'm hoping to find a practice without too much of a commute. Any advice is greatly appreciated, thanks! :)

Heyo, Colorado native here. Looking for anyone who knows of anywhere that has a PIU machine. There used to be one at the Dave and Busters at the Westminster promenade, aswell as a small, family owned Asian video game, manga and anime place in Fort Collins that went out of business. Both machines I’ve never been able to track down if they’ve been relocated.
Please help meh before I drop a butt ton of money to have one in my own home haha!

Hi, a couple of days ago, a friend caused a multi-car accident in California. I'm asking these questions because he's still in shock from what happened, and I'm trying to (hopefully) give him some peace of mind that he isn't ruined financially for life (he's already been teetering on the edge of homed/homeless).
He made an illegal left hand turn. A car T-boned him. That car and two other were damaged; two of the cars look like totals. My ftiend says he has insurance, but believes it's the lowest level of coverage allowed by CA law. (I told him he needs to find out asap, but he's still in shock, and is frozen in inaction.) Anyhow, everyone involved says there were no injuries (but we all know this can change after the fact).
As I said, he's spiraling out of control, and I'm coming here to gather any type of information, either positive or negative, to help him get a grip on how this impacts his future.
- Assuming he has to pay out of pocket for the other cars, what's the likelyhood of an insurance company will fight to garnish his wages into perpetuity till debts are paid off? (He makes very very little money but does have a job.) - He does have some money in the bank, but he's using it to pay for living in cheap motels. Will the insurance companies immediately go for that "nest egg" however small it may be? - I assume this means he'll never be insured again -- yes, no? It may not be germane as he can't afford a new car anyhow. But somehow his concern is the ability to drive, as he needs the car to get to work. - Any other thoughts or suggestions are welcome. Thank god he was not literally uninsured. But it looks like under-insured is effectively just as bad.

I pulled her card from my lockbox today. I couldn’t bring myself to remove it from its wrapping though. I’ll explain the card in a little while. Even in just that briefest of moments though, the tears became too thick. I so wanted to see her name. Instead I decided to only go back to the memories. They bring enough tears. So I put the card back but need to tell my story of that memory. So thank you for your time in letting me indulge dear Reader. I know your time is precious and I am loquacious of a sort.
The place I used to work at a long, long time ago, Croc’s, was an odd duck. It was a Transformer of sorts. During the day and early evening it was a damn good Mexican restaurant. One of the best in town. Lunch was insane. Dinner was a respite. But on Friday, Saturdays, some Thursdays, and almost every holiday eve, it was… I don’t even have words. Nothing like what went on in those walls had been seen in Denver at the time. We had lines around blocks. The plural is not a mistake. On those nights, Croc’s was THE place to be in Denver. The owners got there before everyone else and had hit a jackpot with the place. The Rockies were starting over at Mile High and moving to LoDo soon. LoDo was booming and we were in the middle of it partying like no tomorrow every night.
But this isn’t about that amazing place, that’s for another day. Nope. This is about her, her son and I. Or rather, about loss and memories. But it all started at Croc’s and you needed to know what a breath of a moment in time we shared there. Not on one of those crazy nights but one lazy Sunday when we were pretty slow.
I mentioned the restaurant was an odd duck. See, it was designed so that from breakfast through dinner and into very early evening, it was a purposeful, full-fledged, extremely popular, and well reviewed dining establishment. But after that, it was designed so we could remove every table, chair, stool and booth. We essentially turned the whole restaurant into a giant dance floor with a bar that spanned half the distance of the long wall topped with massive tequila and booze pyramids. The wells were at either end with a plant potter behind them for storage. It was split level(ish) with a few VIP areas squirreled away. State of the art DJ booth on the south end of the bar. Oh and did I mention we had a 28 foot replica of a Nile croc suspended from the roof named “Hal”.
The owners were a group of friends who had grown up in the business. One of them was from the family that started Senior Frogs and the like down in Mexico. They had all met and worked at some of the hottest places in the state and been to some of the craziest places around the Americas. So when I say no one had seen anything like it, they hadn’t. We had a person that would blow tequila from a custom bong into a partier's mouth from 30 feet away. Our DJ’s were the best in town. We poached the absolute best in talent from every bar in a 4000 mile radius. That movie “Cocktail”? Yeah, that was this place on steroids. Hell, beside myself and 1 or 2 other guys, our security eventually turned into off duty SWAT cops. All these places around Denver and, hell, around the country you see now? Yeah these guys started it right there in LoDo.
It was the paper and crayons we would put on every table though where my memory begins.
There had been other places that had done what we did with the butcher block paper. It went on every table with crayons. It wasn’t the most innovative thing there but it was fun and the patrons enjoyed it. Many great artists out there! And of course the kids loved it. A lot of the folks who lived around there would bring their kids with them for lunch or dinner. I worked a lot of Sunday day shifts because a) everyone was hung over and never wanted to work and b) it was usually a nice bit of quiet after two nights that would make Caligula jealous. Plus the people who did come in were usually pretty cool and just out for a good meal. It was pretty chill after all that joyous chaos.
My section was usually the front lifted area just in front of the potters and a few tables in the middle. I was splitting with the other server that day since it was more dead than usual. A beautiful Colorado day back then. Blue sky with puffy clouds. Perfect temperature with no wind so the front doors to the small little patio were open. You could smell the flowers from across the street. The other server let me know she had sat a couple of people at one of my four tops. Sounded good so I headed out to say hello.
It was customary for us to write our name on the paper when we showed up. It was hokie but everyone loved it. It was our way of saying welcome and have fun! Some servers could do it upside down but I could never get the hang of that.
I headed down the bar toward the front, preoccupied with getting my marker out for the intro. I remember coming around the corner of the potter and just kind of coming to a juddering stop at the top step, tripping and almost falling on my face. Luckily she was a little preoccupied with her son and getting him situated so she missed seeing me make a gobsmacked fool out of myself.
I luckily regained what little balance I could alongside some composure quick enough to walk up and say hi. She said hi and then kind of waited. “Oh yeah dumbass” I said to myself as I told her, or rather flubbed, my name as I wrote it in the corner so they could read it right side up. She giggled a little bit as most people did with my nickname at the time. I hadn’t noticed but her son had been waiting the whole time for that moment. He grabbed his crayon and wrote his name and her name in front of them. “That’s a good name isn’t it?” I asked him. I told him it was the same as mine but the longer version. He was a little surprised by this as I went by “Scooter” back then. It took a second but he quickly realized it was a nickname. He had signed the long version of our name and said that’s what he liked. Right on man, you got it. Damn smart kid. You can tell, ya know?
After that briefest of moments, I shook myself a little and introduced myself for, I think the fourth time now. She tells me her name but it is instantly gone. Not only because of the effect this moment is having on me, but just because I am bad with names on the first go around. I don’t think we heard what either was saying anyway. Our eyes were locked and in that moment, it was all that mattered somehow. I can remember how deeply they shined. Her hair was a little damp and unkempt like someone in a hurry but has that respect for herself. Dark like her eyes but shining from the light outside. A simple blue/light purple and white striped shirt. Slightly damp around the shoulders. Worn jeans. Not the designer type but jeans aged with a good strong life. Blue canvas deck shoes with the white souls if I remember that part right. Maybe black canvas. I saw all this without ever breaking her gaze.
It was as if in the same moment we both realized we were in the same place together but not there alone. A moment later we both found ourselves apologizing for talking over the other. Sheepishly, like teens on their first date. Giggling a bit. Not knowing what was happening but knowing that something most definitely was. I apologized for the awkwardness and I think I cracked a joke or something but neither of us knew what to do. There was a calm panic and, I dare to say, a longing that was unknown?
It was her son who brought us both back to reality. He had asked if we had Coke or Pepsi. I shook myself internally again and told him we had Coke but could find some Pepsi if he really wanted it. Luckily he was not a Pepsi kid. I also told him that, yes, I would be happy to add a cherry to it. This time though when I met his eyes, I looked at myself when I was that age, as I answered that question. I hadn’t noticed it. Like a mirror as they say. Dark brown hair full of cowlicks. Round face with a big smile. Getting that cherry meant the world to him. I remembered that same feeling again through him. It was like looking at a version of myself I only saw in pictures.
At this very second in time I remember being terrified. Not “scared” terrified. It was more like, holy shite is this happening? What is going on? I wanted to turn and run and hide but somehow regained what little composure was left in that split second. I turned back to her and saw that she had just seen what I had seen. I could see wonder, joy, confusion, happiness, peace, thrill, fear and hope that I am sure were being reflected in my own eyes. We both needed a few minutes. We each could see it. It was overwhelming. Again, not a bad overwhelming but one of those moments where you need to put your hands on your knees and take some big, deep breaths.
The whole 3 or 4 minutes were surreal. And I will never forget them. I will fight as hard as I can to hold onto the others I have of both of them.
Somehow I managed to Charlie Chaplin myself away to get their drink order. I believe hers was a Sprite with a lemon. Normally I would go right around the corner of the plant potter and get the sodas from the guns there. Instead I went all the way to the back station. I needed to breathe. It seemed like an hour but I headed back. By this time the son was going to town. He had talent and it showed. It seemed like we had regained ourselves somewhat but the whole meal was kind of like an episode out of a teen comedy. We giggled, laughed, blushed, and did all the other things you would expect to see from two teenagers who discover they like each other. It wasn’t like I was trying to stay with them, or they tried to keep me there. It just kind of happened. I’d start to go away and she would ask me back for something simple. I would bring something I had forgotten in case they needed it. The whole meal went that way.
When they were done and ready to go, I was dreading it. Should I ask her out? She had mentioned she was single. It felt like I should ask her out. Like I said, the whole visit was surreal. There was no ring or even a suntan line of one (Don’t judge me, it was a different time). I wasn’t seeing anyone either. We seemed to get along amazingly, both her and her son. Even my fellow server noticed and was egging me on. It was obvious. Doing something like that with a client back then happened. Not usually in the first 30 seconds but you never know. I made up my mind to walk them out as I had no other tables and see what happened. I took the check to the table. She was packing her bag. I had gotten a refill for his togo cup and handed it to him. He said thank you and said he drew something for me. They had carefully torn it from the paper and he handed it to me. It was the three of us holding hands. How I held the tears then I do not know. I was a different person there at that precise point in time. At this moment those tears are here though.
I bent down to his level and thanked him sincerely. He said he was glad I liked it and he hugged me. I heard her try to stifle her gasp. Thank any or no gods or whoever for him. He let go, grabbed his Mom’s hand and said he was ready to go. As I stood up I could see tears welling in her eyes. He hadn’t done that to another man in, what she said, was a very long time she would tell me in a quiet voice as we started to walk toward the door. That was it. I didn’t know what to do. I hadn’t even noticed that when we got to the big double doors, he had grabbed my hand. It just was there.
By this time I do not think either of us really knew what to do or what was going on. I mean, this was an impromptu outing to a place her son had liked because of the paper. It was a cheap and good lunch and then off to wherever for them and another table for me while I rolled silverware in the back or stocked the empty quicks from the previous night. But it seemed like it had been years together but only moments, if that makes sense? I certainly did not know what to do at this point. I think I mumbled what a delight it was to be able to spend time with them and I hoped they had enjoyed themselves or something like that. I honestly could not tell you. By this time she had regained herself somewhat. That girlishness turned into an elegance, beauty and strength that I had not seen before. But those same feelings exchanged in that momentary glance were still there. As was still a bit of moisture along the bottom of her eyes. We made a bit of small talk till he got a bit antsy and wanted to head off.
As we said our goodbyes that day, almost at the same time, we asked our questions. I asked if she would like to come by again soon with her son. His birthday was coming up I think and I could get the guys in back to make him something special. At least I think that was it. Her’s was if it would be ok if they came back soon. You know because the little guy liked drawing and the food. More childish giggling and laughing. And before she left she gave me her card and said to call if I was going to be working again on a Sunday or just whenever. As they walked together, hand in hand down and around the corner, I just stared at them and then the card over and over.
That very card I put back in a safe place tonight.
She was a designer as it turned out. I didn’t pry into her past as it sounded like it wasn’t all that great at times. She came by the restaurant a few more times after that. I then called once or twice to say hi and how they were doing and to let her know to come by. Eventually she asked me out. We spent some time together and it started to get a little more serious. She was a few years older but not by much. She was driven and forthright. Quick witted and compassionate. And such a good Mom with a massive heart. I was young then, somewhat good looking, fairly well paid and worked at the hottest spot in the state. And I had this woman I couldn’t get out of my head. Even my coworkers knew and could see what was going on whenever we were together. Either just the two of us or all three of us. Walking on clouds was an apt statement. At this point I want to point out that while I am no saint whatsoever, I do consider myself a decent person. At least I was back then and for the most part today. Things have changed as they always do but I digress.
Eventually the moment came. The serious date. She had a small but fantastic apartment downtown and wanted to make me dinner for once. I don’t think she was done asking before I said yes. We set a date for later that week. I remember it was a Saturday because me taking a night off from that place, with all its amazing moments each night to the amount of money you walked out with each night to leaving one of the other bouncers with one of the other guys he wasn’t used to, was a pretty big deal. Had to call in favors but everyone just said go. No one there batted an eye. They all seemed to know what a big deal this was somehow.
We set it for a little later in the evening so I could get things in proper working fashion up front of the house and then head over. Any of you who have worked in a restaurant know that smell you get. Kind of need to have worked in that environment to know I guess. So that night, I didn’t have time to head home then come back. So I had a change of clothes and a vanity bag so I could clean up in the back. Wouldn’t be the first time I got sprayed down by the dishwasher but probably a first for this reason. Cleaned up pretty well, freshly shaved and quaffed, walking so far above Cloud 9 I lost track of which one I was on. Headed out to put the work kit and bag in the truck. On the way out a few who knew what had been going on smiled or waved.
And off I went. I was a little late but she said she had expected it given the night of the week. Back then, downtown Denver was different. Colorado was different. I guess everywhere was different back then. But in this instance, I mean in an architectural way. You didn’t have the towers all around LoDo as you do now. From some rooftops you could still watch a sunset over the mountains. Say what you will, even I have to admit that a purple and orange sunset over the mountains is quite possibly the most beautiful natural thing I have seen. It is immense but oh so fleeting. Just like our lives I guess. You could still hear birds and bugs over cars at times. I wouldn’t say it was peaceful but it was at least calm?
She was lucky as her apartment, though smallish, came with a hidden bonus. Her window allowed her to access the roof on the next building. A part of it anyway. But this little slice of hidden wonder allowed a view down Market Street, across Spear, over Auraria and then the mountain view. It was stunning. Like the apartment, the space was just cozy enough for two to enjoy a little rooftop barbeque and dining. She gave me the quick tour and we poured some wine. She was going through the menu as we “headed outside”. The door was a small little window. I remember scratching my head and thinking I may not fit out there. She handled it with the grace of a ballerina and said I could do it. It took a minute or two but I contorted my clumsy self outside. And she was right. It was spectacular.
Not just the view but what she had done with her little corner of peace. She had talked with the building owner who agreed that she could use this space as he didn't even know about it. It was like something out of a commercial today. A nice little seating couch type niche. Well built trellis with some small Christmas lights for effect. A little brick grilling area with a hibachi going. I can still smell it. The table with candles and dinnerware. Decking. I was taken aback. The way it was situated insulated her from the sounds down below. You could hear them but it was almost like distant white noise. It was just peaceful. I remember remarking about this. She said she discovered it by accident when her son thought it might be a good play area.
Dinner was wonderful. The night went on. There wasn’t a sense of time. Just us there in that little part of the universe that was only hers. To this day I do not think I felt that safe before anywhere nor since. Someone was letting me into one of their most sacred spots. Literally and figuratively. I felt privileged. Almost as though I was treading somewhere I shouldn’t be. I think that thought was my downfall however. Don’t worry dear Reader, you will understand all that very soon. We watched that sunset. It was perfect. The right contrast of colors. Just the right amount of clouds to change those colors ever so slightly. A reminder of how something can change for the simplest of reasons.
As night grew darker it started to get cold. The goosebumps we were feeling on each other's skin holding hands and looking at the stars weren’t just from feelings. It was getting cool so we moved inside. After safely dousing the grill and making sure the coals were in their proper place, we cleaned up. Since it was easier, I stayed outside and handed them into the house to her. We figured it would be safer for the dishes. Giggled some more as we came to realize more and more things about each other at the same time. Finally the outside was clear. I stood outside for another minute to take in what was happening. I think that is then that little bit of fear weeded its way in without my realizing it. This was as close to perfect as I could ever dream I thought.
After squeezing back inside, assisted again but ok with that, we cleaned up the dishes and opened another bottle of wine. The inside was just as cozy. At some point she had lit some more candles and had some soft music going. Light jazz if I remember. Not loud at all. Again, there, just outside the periphery. Sitting on the couch I can feel her sitting next to me. We are close. Two people holding each other wanting to believe but not sure if this is real. There was almost a vibration. The constant goosebumps were not because of the cold anymore. Once we were both comfortable and we just talked. For hours and hours. There were the intimate moments but nothing scandalous. A tenuous kiss from one to the other.
We talked about what two people talk about who truly want to know the other. I believe we asked as many honest questions of ourselves as we did of the other. We really, truly, wholly wanted to know each other. And that is what we did. The more we talked the more comfortable we felt. Each of us had our scars that were not easily revealed. Nor did we reveal all of them that night and guarded them well. But we each wanted to know if the other was someone we could trust with those deepest places that we all hide in the darkest parts of our soul.
We talked a little about her son’s father but not in depth. It was easy to see that was one of the scars. We talked about her son. Why she was so astonished that first day. My heart wrenches this very moment dear Reader upon remembering that. Her hopes for him. His likes and his dislikes. Some of the stories parents tell others to embarrass their children later in life. We talked about what futures there could be not for us but for him and his world. He really was an amazing kid and I am sure has grown up to be someone she can be proud of. Time did not exist that night. Feelings and thoughts were exchanged that did not need to be said. We just knew each other that night.
We never did finish the second bottle if memory serves, we talked, laughed and sat together in peaceful comfort and gave no care about anything else. But tomorrow was coming as it always does and we had to leave each other. I remember the closeness as we held each other. The pressure of two bodies at that singular moment in time. That one instant that feels as though it could last through infinity. When two become one and feel the safety, love, compassion, trust and sameness that is rarely, if ever experienced.
Pardon me dear Reader but must ask a moment to compose myself. We are getting close to the end of my tale so also ask for just a bit more of your time. I know how so very precious it is. Thank you for allowing me to continue.
I do not know how long we held each other. To this day I wish it had been so much longer however. I do remember leaving. Working where I did, I was sadly but actively very familiar with many different levels and types of inebriation. That feeling that morning however was something that surpassed all that I had experienced in my life. I had never felt like this. I knew that the sun was starting to come up as I parked my car. I knew that I got through the door, downstairs and then fell asleep. I wasn’t drunk. It was pure. A pure love, happiness, joy and trust I had never felt from someone else. This feeling was so powerful it had knocked me for a loop that I just was not ready for.
I awoke later that day, thankful I didn’t have to work. It was late in the afternoon and I felt like I had been hit by a bus but didn’t care. I believe that the night before we both had excised many things that we had held inside for so long. I could (and can) still remember the whole night if not the words. I felt like one does after you give everything physically possible to something and have nothing left to give. But it felt right. Regardless of the ending, I do believe that, even though brief, that night, two people who had needed to find each other did. I think they needed to know that there was at least one person who understood, even if they hadn’t needed to actually say anything.
Now dear Reader I must ask you to remember that part about fear. Given my early life and life up to that point and to this day, I do find it very hard to trust. So this was something I had to confront. And so I started to. Instead of seeing what she saw in me, I saw the things I thought were ugly. I got scared that those scars would be peeled away and she would be repulsed. And these thoughts and fears grew. We still saw each other and talked for a while after that night. But my fear took over quickly. Before I knew it I had driven her away. There was no maliciousness about it. The thoughts that had ruled my life for so long before her and then after her, to this day, always got to the same thing. If you let her in, she will leave because of who you are. It was idiotic but it was ingrained at this point. I eventually told her I didn’t think it was going to work out. The truth was that I was scared. Scared to let her in. I hated myself for not being honest with her. She would have understood. Probably more than any other.
After that, I went on with my life as a young person does in that atmosphere. I saw her one time after that final talk. She waved as she and her son sat in a section away from mine. I waved back and remembered going out back and beating the hell out of our cooler there. I was so mad at myself then. While the anger passed as life threw one thing at me after another as it does until I find myself here today writing this, the pain of losing her has never healed. Nor do I want it to. That pain also brings memories that I so rarely experience anymore. I buried it for a long, long, long time but recently I find myself thinking about her and her son more and more. What would have been?
For you see dear Reader, that moment was my perfect chance. Not long ago in my life I was diagnosed with cancer. I eventually beat it but it has long since ruined my life. But that is not why I tell this tale. I ask for no sympathy. My life is where I am supposed to be. I have come to peace with that. To an extent I guess anyway. The reason it was my perfect chance is this. I was also diagnosed with a genetic defect which essentially makes me a cancer producer with no natural way to fight it. My mothers father died of colon and pancreatic cancer. My Mother has beaten 5 different bouts of cancer. I have been tested and confirmed. So if I had had a child, I would more than likely have passed that to them. After listening to what my mother watched her father go through. After watching my own Mother fight this monster 5 times and win each time. After all that I was horrified to learn that I could have passed this monster to someone I would have loved with all my heart.
I never married and never had a child. For most of my life I regretted that most of all to the point of shame. I am the last person in my familial lineage that will ever carry my name. My line dies with me. For the longest time that has been a great burden. However, after the geneticist confirmed me and a great deal of internal contemplation, with the aid of hindsight, part of me is glad that I never had a wife and child who would have to go through the horrors I have heard about, watched and gone through first hand and personally. That at least brings me a modicum of inner peace. Do not be fooled ever though. This monster is evil. It takes everything from all but the luckiest.
And I had my moment of perfect chance. Even though I did not know it at the time, I had an opportunity to spend the rest of my life with two someones who I truly believe to this day, loved me. Even if for so very briefly. I gave up the chance to be able to be a husband and care for someone I believe I loved and loved me. I had a chance to be the father I wanted to be without passing on my monster. To see a child grow into their best self. I get angry at times that I did this. Not necessarily my own selfish needs. I am also mad that this person trusted me and I couldn’t do the same in the end. That I let a child down who for his own reasons let me in when he shut others out. That we could have been the family we could have been. And I ran because I was scared. I can never forgive myself for doing that to them. This may sound selfish and perhaps it is but it is my history.
And now dear Reader we come to the end of my tale. Where it all began.
Her card.
I think you will understand why I put it away instead of taking it out after this. I mentioned that she was a designer. Her card is exquisite. I don’t need to see it to describe it. There is a silver cord ribbon wrapped around a waxed paper tied in a bow. It sparkles silver but is brittle after all the years. I can slide the card out carefully but don’t want to take a chance of damaging it. My hands aren’t the best anymore. The writing on the card is done with a most excellent penmanship in purple over white with black. The backing is white with the black used as border highlighting with purple as the border and main color. There is a bit of sparkle in one of the purples but not a garish amount. Just enough to catch the eye. The back is similar with details of her work at the time as well as some contact information. I don’t know if she did this on all of them, but there was a scent of her perfume that accompanied it for a while. It, like much else, has faded.
We all have a place to keep our most precious items. This one rarely leaves that place for me.
So in the really bad times dear Reader, I try to look at that card. I say try because it is very painful to try to do so. Today was one of those days and I wanted to share it. In the end I couldn’t get past the tears to look at it so returned it to its safety. Not really because of the pain. Believe me, the pain is there in vast amounts. But because of that first moment. I needed to remember what that feeling was like. I needed to remember what it is to look in another's eyes and see the whole universe and all its infinite possibilities. Some regrets, regardless of time, will always follow you. Be honest about that with yourself dear Reader. Today I needed to remember her and him. I needed that acceptance. That peace. That joy, That trust. That love.
This time however I needed to commit this to our history so that perhaps at least one other will read it and maybe it will impact somehow. This is not meant to be a moralistic tale. It is just a tale of love lost. A life that could have been different. I hope, dear Reader, that your life is filled with wonder and love. Do not miss a single chance in your life because of fear. Be cautious but be open. Your world is massive but also miniscule. The chances don’t happen often anymore so grab them and hold onto them when you can. Try to think of all possibilities and look through others' eyes. But most importantly. If you do find your perfect moment, do not let it go dear Reader. It may never come again.
That is the end of my tale. I thank you so much dear Reader. As I have said many times, your time is precious and I have taken enough. Safe journeys to you my friend.

Working from home today myself, but my coworker in the office (200 block of Cherry) just counted 13 police cars lining the street, police with semi-automatic rifles drawn all over, and everyone in all businesses has been told to stay where they're at. I guess this all started around 1:15pm or so. This is just north of where Taste of Fort Collins is all setup.
Edit: 11 police cars, not 13

We see so many negative posts and complaints about rude and cheap customers in this sub, I wanted to share some positivity.
I accepted a pizza order last night for $11.50, for about 5 miles. Got the order, started heading west, and about a mile from the destination, it started pouring down rain and hailing. I continued driving, was thinking to myself I may have to wait it out in the car for a bit, not to mention the customer lived in an apartment complex I am not familiar with. I receive a text from the customer, letting me know he will meet me at my car when I arrive so I don’t have to get out.
Sure enough, I pull up, about to text to find out the best side of the building to pull up to (it’s dark and I can’t see much, the hail had subsided but it was still pouring down rain) and he comes running across the parking lot, I unlocked the passenger door and get the pizzas out of the bag, thank him, and hand it to him. He tells me he had no idea the food was even coming (I guess his wife or gf placed the order?), tells me to drive safe and runs off in the rain with the order.
I didn’t even have to get out of my car and get wet. On my way back toward the hot zone it sinks in just what what a kind gesture it was. I text the customer one more time to thank the customer for their kind, unnecessary, act. He says no problem, and tells me again to drive safely.
I get back to my hot zone, and there’s only evidence of a few sprinkles, Colorado weather can be so weird. Any other Denver area drivers can attest to this.
There are still plenty of kind, caring people in the world, it’s just the assholes get all the attention.
Stay positive dashers!

I am currently pre-writing my secondaries and one of the questions for Colorado is about the Fort Collins campus. Do we have to answer that question or do you only do it if you are interested in being placed in Fort Collins?

“Blood, Sweat & Tears” I stare at the cracked mirror in the dimly lit backstage room, trying to recognise the person staring back at me. The once vibrant eyes now carry a weariness that no amount of success can erase. My name is Jake, and I've poured every ounce of my being into becoming a rock star, but lately, I've begun to question if it was worth it. Our band, "The Fallen," was born in the dingy basement of a rundown apartment building. We were just a group of misfits with a shared dream and an insatiable hunger for music. Countless hours were spent rehearsing, writing songs, and playing in empty dive bars, hoping for that one breakthrough that could change our lives. And finally, it came. We secured our first tour, hopping from city to city in a rickety old van, living off fast food and cheap motels. The late nights and endless miles became our companions as we played our hearts out in front of dwindling audiences. But perseverance paid off when we caught the attention of a record label executive who saw the raw potential in us. Our first album, "Blood, Sweat & Tears," became an instant hit. It climbed the charts, and our faces adorned magazine covers. The relentless touring took its toll, but we revelled in the adoration of fans, the exhilaration of sold-out concerts, and the euphoria that surged through our veins with every chord struck on stage. However, the dark side of success soon reared its head. The constant pressure, the unrelenting expectations, and the ever-mounting stress began to wear us down. I, in particular, felt the weight of it all crushing my spirit. The exhaustion led to sleepless nights and moments of crippling self-doubt that turned into bouts of depression. And then came the blackouts. I wake up in unfamiliar places, covered in sweat, my heart pounding against my ribcage. My mind is blank, unable to account for the hours that slipped away. Panic grips me as I frantically search for clues, wondering what I might have said or done during those lost moments. The fear of becoming a stranger to myself consumes me, and I'm left questioning my sanity. Inside the band, tensions rise. The arguments that used to be minor disagreements now escalate into full-blown fights. Trust begins to erode as egos clash, and resentment festers beneath the surface. The harmony we once had as a united force of music becomes distorted, replaced by discordant notes that threaten to tear us apart. As the fame grows, so does the darkness that lingers around us. I can't help but wonder if this is the price we pay for chasing our dreams. The success that once felt like salvation now feels like a curse, and I'm left wondering if there's any way to escape the shadows that haunt us. The once vibrant energy of "The Fallen" now hangs heavy with an ominous tension. We've reached a crossroads where the very foundation of our band threatens to crumble beneath the weight of our personal demons. As the second act of our story unfolds, the true horrors lurking in the shadows are about to be unleashed. The strain on our relationships becomes unbearable, like a frayed guitar string on the verge of snapping. Each member of the band carries their own burdens, and the pressure cooker of emotions can no longer contain the mounting resentment. Arguments turn into bitter confrontations, hurling accusations and insults that cut deep into our souls. But the dissonance within us pales in comparison to the malevolent presence that seems to infiltrate our lives. Strange occurrences haunt our days and nights, testing the boundaries of our sanity. Instruments mysteriously detune, creating discordant melodies that grate on our nerves. Eerie whispers echo through the corridors of our tour bus, leaving us trembling in the darkness. My blackouts intensify, their duration stretching into hours, and the fear of what I might become during those lost moments gnaws at the edges of my consciousness. It's as if a malevolent force takes control, using my body as a vessel for its own nefarious desires. I wake up with bloodstained hands, surrounded by shattered glass and broken memories. Paranoia takes hold, and we start to suspect each other. The camaraderie we once shared is replaced by a toxic cocktail of suspicion and fear. Our music, once a means of escape and expression, now becomes a conduit for something darker. The lyrics we pen are laced with sinister undertones, haunting melodies that seem to summon an otherworldly presence. As we delve deeper into the abyss, we discover a disturbing truth. Our rise to fame was not simply a product of talent and hard work but a pact we unknowingly made when we were desperate for success. The price we paid for our dreams was steeper than we ever imagined. An ancient curse, tied to the music we create, has awakened forces beyond our comprehension. Our very souls are entwined with the darkness, and it feeds on our anguish, our struggles, and our desperation. The success we once craved has become a prison, a never-ending nightmare from which we cannot escape. With each passing day, the malevolent presence grows stronger, its grip on our minds and bodies tightening like a vice. It's clear that we must confront the origins of this curse and find a way to break free, or risk losing ourselves entirely to the abyss. But can we find the strength to overcome the horrors that surround us and reclaim our lives, or are we destined to become mere instruments in a symphony of madness? The depths of despair have claimed my bandmates, leaving me standing amidst a gruesome tableau of carnage and unanswered questions. The discovery of their lifeless bodies shocks me to the core. Crimson splatters paint the walls, turning our once vibrant sanctuary into a macabre canvas. Their eyes, once filled with dreams and determination, now stare into the abyss, their souls forever silenced. How did it come to this? Did our pact with the shadows consume them, or is there a more sinister force at play? The room whispers secrets, but they remain locked within the shadows, refusing to reveal their dark truths. Fragmented memories of our recent days together haunt my mind, merging with the echoes of my blackouts. Did I become an unwitting puppet, dancing to the malevolent tune of the curse? Or was I merely a witness to a horror that defies comprehension? The weight of guilt presses upon my shoulders, threatening to break me. The once unbreakable bond we shared, the brotherhood forged in music, now feels like a curse. Doubt seeps into the cracks of my sanity, intertwining with the tendrils of the darkness that has plagued us from the beginning. How could I have let it come to this? Was there any way to save them, or was their fate sealed from the moment we struck that infamous bargain? As I stand amidst the wreckage of shattered dreams and shattered lives, the truth remains elusive, buried deep within the haunting melody of our story. The horror of the unknown lingers, forever shrouding our final chapter in mystery. Was it the curse that claimed their lives, or was it my own hand stained with their blood? The echoes of their music resonate within me, their voices mingling with the haunting questions that will haunt me until my last breath. So, as I stand above the four dead members of my band, covered in blood, I wonder, was it all worth it? The End.