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I called for Archie then, shouting at the top of my lungs and hoping that perhaps she had escaped to the outside, or was on her way to my house. I lifted my phone to call her and saw a video clip she had sent. Feeling the tension drain from my body as relief washed over me like a wave, I sighed, assuming that this message would tell me exactly where she was, that she was safe and that the worst I would then be faced with was an embarrassing conversation with the police. As it turned out, only the last of these was true.

I had to admit it to myself. I am lost. ''What should I do now?'', I said. I did the only thing I could think of at the moment. I started yelling. ''Daaaaad. Dad where are you?'' No response. Just a sound of the wind and cracking branches. I had a choice to make. I can keep going, or turn around and get back to my car. The second choice sounded better, but how can I leave my father. He is probably in pain, still waiting for me, and probably worrying sick about me.

"The light from the fire against the tent cast some strange shadows, but nothing out of the ordinary, as Tony whispered that it was probably Bumi going to pee in the foliage. Leaning slowly to one side I raised the flap of the tent and stared out. Panic gripped me when I suddenly realized that the tent opposite, Bumi’s tent, was empty. Not only that, but his backpack was missing. Why would he take his stuff if he’s just going to pee? I asked myself and then Tony, out loud. In response he told me not to panic. Surely wherever Bumi had gone he would be back by morning".

Upon the occasion of her own demise, Mary Seacomb was buried, as was her wish, between the roots of the tree - despite the malevolent elements of her work and the fact that she was expressly forbidden from entering any of the church buildings within the surrounding areas. Accounts and parish records from the time reveal that she was regarded as something of an asset to the local area. This was particularly on account of her apparent ability to shield the town and a number of local villages from the effects of the black death.

Well, this beginning of my new life did not start as I thought it was going to. I was here for less than two hours, and I already managed to have a panic attack. What should I expect next. I was in a foreign country, in a car with two people I do not know, going to a clinic where I should have a meeting that could determine my whole future. I had no idea how to do it, but apparently, I had four and a half hours to bring my A-game and impress my future boss.

The next complainant brought us back our cabbages, which was one of our produce that father took pride in. He was already agitated before the vendor could say anything. And just like the tomatoes, the cabbages looked totally fine on the surface. The vendor took out one of them that was already cut in half, and father tried his best not to lash out in front of the vendor because of what he saw. There were maggots crawling from the stalk of the cabbage, and the inner leaves were incredibly pale that it was almost grayish white.

You will discover how some of these heroes pulled off the impossible, accomplished more than entire squadrons could manage, and others who gave the ultimate sacrifice for their country.

The year is 31 AD. It is five years into the Judean governorship of Pontius Pilate and the province ever stands on the edge of a knife. The Jewish religious leaders, the Sanhedrin, use their patronage with the Emperor to vent the slightest grievance, and the people themselves burn with a hatred for Rome. Pilate’s only military forces are Samaritan auxiliaries, little more than an undisciplined mob that abuse and torment the populace. The Emperor Tiberius finally relents and assigns to Judea a single cohort of legionaries to restore order.

"Bob, you need to get here as soon as possible. I think someone broke in last night." "What? Don't you think you should have started with that?" "I thought it was you. That is why I called you," I said, already panicking. "I am on my way. Call the police and get out of there now. Someone could still be in there." He ended the call, and I just stood there, looking around, trying to find the courage to pick up the phone and call them. I don't know why but I thought it would be a good idea to look around first. To see if there was any money or stuff missing.

So it was with a great wave of relief that we approached the scene and found blue flashing lights already throwing their ominous glow on the road when we arrived. Somewhere to the left of where the ambulance was parked, two paramedics were hunched over a figure that had been covered with several of those tinfoil like sheets stopping people from going into shock as a result of exposure to the cold. I remember seeing that small silver mass, a hunched lump like a giant jacket potato and seeing from the bottom left of the mass one perfectly formed female foot.

One of the most remarkable things about Cathy was her beautiful skin. She had skin that was clear as crystal. And her figure was amazing. Her nose was pointed, defining her face in a well-structured manner. People often called her "the sunflower girl" because of her features and talents as a stripper.

Ms. Warner could not help thinking of the burnt streaks that ran down the sides of the tiny carcass she had disposed of that day. The scalded paths that seemed to have seared through the fur and flesh of the poor animal. She had almost gagged at the unpalatable similarity between that vision and this highly detailed effigy. The story was fantastical. One that I knew would be embellished and exaggerated and probably be recycled with alternative names as a spook story to scare children for years to come.

In the year 28 AD the people of Frisia, a previously loyal province, were suffering under the oppression of the Roman magistrate, a former Centurion named Olennius. So blinded by greed had he become that he taxed the populous well beyond their means to produce. Now impoverished and risking starvation, the Frisians did the unspeakable and sought open rebellion as their only means of survival.

When Tim, one day, made the mistake of wearing shorts at school, revealing how sticklike and sickly thin his legs were, one of the many vitriolic idiots referred to them as "spindle" legs. The comparison wasn’t entirely accurate, but somehow the word had a particular connotation of legs that were twig thin, willowy, and bone-like.

Outside the tent was damp and cold and moist and like nothing Kayla had ever seen. Almost immediately, she wanted to return into the tent. Supria was already swiftly ahead. Here was like nowhere she had ever seen before. The sky was an eerie purple and orange, there were lighting strikes without thunderbolts. Sequoias characterized the landscapes and then the people.

What if the “aliens” are not from other planets?

I had no choice but to lift up the bed, and Becca aggressively grabbed our daughter to stop her from behaving wildly. She struggled to get out of her arms, and she succeeded when she sank her teeth into her mother’s shoulder. I ran immediately to the medicine cabinet. My wife was crying as she tried to lull our little Matthew back to sleep. He was awakened because of the loud ruckus in the house. With my youngest child and my wife in tears as I was patching up the wound on her shoulder, my heart was crushed while I was looking at the bite mark of my daughter.

Curiosity got mixed with raw fear and it made me speak, although all I could say was, ''Hello?'' I swear to God if anyone had responded, I would have died of a heart attack. Luckily for me, no one did. That calmed me down a bit, but my camera was still on, and, well, that was a problem to me. I had no idea who turned it on, and what was even scarier, who was watching me? I moved a cursor across the screen, and there wasn't an option to turn it off. It was seemed like whoever created this site wanted to see its visitors faces.

I took a short break a few hours later. Breaking through the curtains of vines and intertwined stalks was tiring, especially when I had to fight through the boggy soil that was weighing down my feet. It was then when I suddenly heard some rustling from the shrubs as I was taking out my supplies. I paused for a moment to closely observe. A few seconds later, I heard some subtle grunting close by.

Aside from the last part, I happened to tick most of the boxes. Without knowing what it was, I already spotted this door a few times. I also had a few vague encounters with ghosts in different places. I just preferred not to tell anyone about it in fear that I might be laughed at. I didn’t say a single word and pretended to mind my own business until the break ended.