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Blind Eyes Opened
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Blind Eyes Opened

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Actor Brook Susan Parker / director Geoffrey Rogers / 2020 / Country USA / Genre Drama. Omg they were both in A Dog's Purpose together. Blind eyes opened cinemark. Actually the biggest seller in sex trade is woman over the age of 18 but people like to skip that truth and only focus on children bcuz it gets more attention when people think it is only children. Well guess what those children become adults eventually and there are many adults that have been trafficked with no were to go because Everyone only thinks its kids that need help so a majority of woman over 18!stay stuck bcuz there are no resources. So if You want to make an impact on those high number of woman over 18 that make up a majority of sex trafficking you should speak about that so the ignorance doesnt continue to spread. Please spread truth not what catches most attention. So Many faith based organizations run by people that are not survivors and so much misrepresentation of sex trafficking is only going to continue to keep it growing bcuz no one is helping a huge population that cannot get help because there are age restrictions to the resources.

But I don't think I ever planned. She is a beautiful human being who makes beautiful songs and beautiful music videos😍😍😍. Blind eyes opened movie locations.

Blind eyes opened official trailer

Blind eyes opened movie youtube. Blind eyes opened 2020. Blind eyes opened reddit. Blind eyes opened netflix. Moral of the film: always listen to the bald guy. Blind eyes opened. Blind eyes opened movie trailer. Blind eyes opened youtube.

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Bird Box: Cant see. And my mom said:Oh sweetie it's just about cute birds sleeping in a box. Blind eyes opened colorado springs. Blind Eyes opened. My bestfriend is also blind, how I wish he just open eyes in morning and can see the world !😣😣😣. This banner text can have markup. web books video audio software images ABOUT CONTACT BLOG PROJECTS HELP DONATE JOBS VOLUNTEER PEOPLE Search metadata Search text contents Search TV news captions Search archived web sites Advanced Search upload UPLOAD person SIGN IN Search the history of over 406 billion web pages on the Internet. search Search the Wayback Machine Featured texts All Books All Texts latest This Just In Smithsonian Libraries FEDLINK (US) Genealogy Lincoln Collection Books to Borrow Top American Libraries Canadian Libraries Universal Library Community Texts Project Gutenberg Biodiversity Heritage Library Children's Library Open Library Halesowen Chronicle Newspaper test202001280839 Kidderminster Chronicle Newspaper Mk News Newspaper Harlow Star Newspaper Books by Language Additional Collections movies All video Prelinger Archives Democracy Now! Occupy Wall Street TV NSA Clip Library TV News Animation & Cartoons Arts & Music Computers & Technology Cultural & Academic Films Ephemeral Films Movies News & Public Affairs Understanding 9/11 Spirituality & Religion Sports Videos Television Videogame Videos Vlogs Youth Media Regent Park TV audio All audio Grateful Dead Netlabels Old Time Radio 78 RPMs and Cylinder Recordings Live Music Archive Audio Books & Poetry Community Audio Computers & Technology Music, Arts & Culture News & Public Affairs Non-English Audio Spirituality & Religion Librivox Free Audiobook Podcasts software All software Old School Emulation MS-DOS Games Historical Software Classic PC Games Software Library Internet Arcade Kodi Archive and Support File Community Software Vintage Software APK MS-DOS CD-ROM Software CD-ROM Software Library Console Living Room Software Sites Tucows Software Library Shareware CD-ROMs CD-ROM Images ZX Spectrum Software Capsules Compilation DOOM Level CD image All images Flickr Commons Occupy Wall Street Flickr Cover Art USGS Maps Metropolitan Museum NASA Images Solar System Collection Ames Research Center Brooklyn Museum Audio Preview favorite Flag this item for Graphic Violence Graphic Sexual Content Topics London, Sanctuary Pastor Jamie preaches on Blind Bartimaeus and the desire he had. Addeddate 2012-07-29 19:42:13 Identifier BlindEyesOpen plus-circle Add Review comment Reviews There are no reviews yet. Be the first one to write a review. 42 Views DOWNLOAD OPTIONS download 1 file APPLE LOSSLESS AUDIO download OGG VORBIS download TORRENT download VBR M3U download VBR MP3 download download 7 Files download 4 Original SHOW ALL IN COLLECTIONS Community Audio Uploaded by Sanctuary2011 on July 29, 2012 SIMILAR ITEMS (based on metadata) Terms of Service (last updated 12/31/2014).

Blind eyes opened movie near me. Blind eyes opened movie review. Blind eyes opened contact. Home The Posies The Posies - Blind Eyes Open Blind Eyes Open Artist: The Posies Album: Failure, 2014 Provided to YouTube by Omnivore Recordings Blind Eyes Open · The Posies Failure ℗ 1988 PopLlama Products, under exclusive license to Omnivore Recordings Writer: Jonathan Auer/Kenneth Stringfellow Auto-generated by YouTube. Show more Has been played on Russia 1 United States Install the free Online Radio Box application for your smartphone and listen to your favorite radio stations online - wherever you are!

Blind eyes opened trailer. Cant wait for this I saw I can only imagine and I cried. An influential presentation. A sentence about Crony pseudo-capitalism may have rounded it out just a bit toward a full pic of reality. We already saw this movie with denzel.

 

Blind eyes opened cast. Greg: I'm the bald guy. Also Greg: kills himself. Ive watched it an its so amazing. This movie should get an Oscar Nomination the trailer is very intense. And I love this film. Sees bullet proof glass. Incoming call from : Elon Musk. Blind eyes opened tickets.

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Blind eyes opened imdb. Part one part six Claudius screamed as the Grinning Man wrapped his claws around his head and lifted him into the air. Pain exploded in his spine from the strain inflicted on his neck, but he resisted the urge to cry. He didn’t want to give The Grinning Man the satisfaction of watching him suffer. When Claudius reached the base of his eyes, The Grinning Man paused. Yellow dominated the entirety of Claudius’s vision. The Grinning Man’s irises glowed like torches in front of him, and radiated such heat that the saliva evaporated from his mouth. No matter how badly he wanted to look away though, his gaze remained transfixed on the yellowness swimming before him, as if he were hypnotized. “Brace yourself, ” said the Grinning Man, “for your transformation will be an arduous process. When it’s complete, your power will only be second to my own. Not even the angels in Heaven will dare test your strength. ” Claudius’s limbs went numb as an unseen force constricted his body. This sudden relaxation of his muscles caused his bowels to release and his arms to spasm. He couldn’t even blink his eyes, much less struggle as the luminosity of the Grinning Man’s gaze intensified and sent bright dots dancing across his pupils. The brightness of the Grinning Man’s irises increased to the point Claudius feared he would go blind. Dark spots slid across his eyes like flowing lava, and were only broken up by patches of yellow and red. If his throat didn’t feel like it had been stuffed with pounds of cotton, he would’ve screamed. Just as what remained of Claudius’s vision was about to tumult into darkness, a tearing sound exploded above his head and he and the Grinning Man went soaring into a shadow-filled room. Chained to the walls of this room were creatures so grotesque they made Claudius’s stomach reel. Pus oozed from the pores of their yellow skin, and their faces were jagged and angular, as if their skulls had been partially crushed. “Don’t be frightened, ” said the Grinning Man, “these are my children. They won’t harm you. ” The creatures howled at the sound of the Grinning Man’s voice like hounds reunited with their long-absent master. Immediately after their cries died in their throats, they pulled against their chains with all of their might in an attempt to free themselves. Luckily the black metal held firm. “They are soulless. That is why their behavior is so erratic. ” If the Grinning Man’s claws weren’t wrapped around his shoulders, Claudius would’ve bolted from the room. Never before had he witnessed such psychotic behavior; the creatures writhing in front of him would have torn each other to shreds if their chains weren’t so powerful. Instead, they eyed each other hungrily though the darkness, as if they were fighting to prove their ferociousness to the Grinning Man. “They can sense your soul. It has been many centuries since one of their siblings has received such a profound gift, and they are desperate to tear away your flesh. Worry not though—I won’t allow them to succumb to such base behavior. I’m a civilized man. Your union will be controlled and deliberate, as tradition demands. ” Claudius cringed as the Grinning Man’s claws dug deeper into his flesh. Blood poured from his wounds in crimson streams and plastered his tunic to his back. The copper scent of his blood sent the creatures spiraling into a frenzy. They struggled against their chains with such force dust rained down from the ceiling. They then howled like feral dogs fighting over a bone as they sniffed the air, but then the Grinning Man said something in a language Claudius had never heard before, and they all fell silent. “They are growing restless. Pick the one you want to merge with and we will begin” Claudius stared down at the ground. Like the fabled Spartans of Greece, he had accepted his death, and refused to either struggle against or aid the Grinning Man as he performed his demented ritual. “Silence will not save you. If you refuse to choose, then the contest will decide your fate, as it has countless souls before you. ” Claudius remained silent. “Still you abstain? Fine. Let the contest proceed. ” The Grinning Man dripped a pool of Claudius’s blood onto the middle of the floor with a hooked talon, then snapped his fingers and released the creatures from their chains. The creatures threw themselves at one another like rabid wolves. Black blood cascaded through the air and splattered against the walls as their teeth ripped flesh from bone. Only their guttural howls could be heard over the incessant tearing, which ripped through the air like cacophonous banshee shrieks. Eventually their teeth found each other’s throats and sent their howls tumbling out of the open wounds in their necks. Black blood poured down their bodies in viscous rivulets, making their withered yellow skin look like rotten viper husks in the shadows. The Grinning Man’s claws tightened around Claudius’s shoulders and nearly sliced through his tendons. Claudius hardly noticed the pain though—for his attention was consumed by the malicious menagerie wreaking havoc in front of him. As the fight wore on, the brutal violence became too much for Claudius to bare. Not even his monumental bravery could influence him to continue watching as the creatures devoured each other’s limbs with teeth sharper than tempered steel. So he closed his eyes, and tried to imagine that he was back home in Petra laying beneath the trees behind his home, or running through the meadow beyond the village outskirts. When the gruesome sounds finally ceased several minutes later, he opened his eyes. Crouched in the middle of the chamber was a single creature whose mouth was caked with the gore of his siblings. Its yellow eyes stared longingly at him as if it could already taste his soul. “We have a match, ” said the Grinning Man. “And what a match it will be. Your union will shake the pillars of Heaven, and cause even God to tremble. ” Finale WATCH.

Blind eyes opened theaters. Blind Eyes openedition. My half-brother Thomas came to live with us when I was a baby. In my first memories, he was always skittish and sickly, but he got better with time. I never knew why Dad looked enraged and Mom looked deeply sad when Thomas mentioned his mother, until I turned 13. I just knew that he and Dad didn’t get along well; it almost felt like Dad was his step-parent, not Mom. “Holly, I think you’re already old enough to know what happened before you were born”, Thomas and I were seating under the mango tree, each of us reading a different book. It was how we bonded. I truly love Thomas. He was always good to me, teaching me how to read before I went to school, how to whistle in three different ways, and how to swim, even though his own body was too fragile to do that. My brother was never the jokester or prankster type, and he was dead serious while talking about his mother. But, despite all that, the story he told me was so uncanny that I didn’t believe him at first. “I know you think highly of dad”, Thomas prefaced. “I have to admit, he’s good to you. But men like him almost always fail with their first wife and kid before they become a decent parent and husband. And he was a piece of shit to me and my mom. ” The following is a transcription of my brother’s recollections. I like your mom, Holly. Lisa is really kind to me, and anyone can see she loves you to the moon and back. So I don’t mean to badmouth her, okay? I like her more than I like dad, honestly. But you’ll hear some unpleasant things about her. Dad started cheating on my mother with Lisa, but he told Lisa that he was already divorced. She was gullible enough to believe him. He was probably charming when he was young. He asked Lisa to marry him and left us on the same day. Things were so hard for mom. She hadn’t worked in years because dad wanted her to stay home with me. She got a minimum wage job but it meant we could only afford bad housing. I was already afraid we would go homeless, after relying on the sympathy of all our relatives to let us stay a few nights in their couches. But then mom found us a very cheap place from the 40s. Three very spacious bedrooms, two bathrooms, a nice kitchen, I almost couldn’t believe it! She was smart enough to know something had to be wrong with it, so she asked the realtor. “No one has lived here in over 10 years”, I remember the bald guy explaining with a nervous smile. “It makes people uneasy. The original owner of this house ran some sort of charity hospital here. A nurse that tended to poor people for free. The community loved her, but you know… she wasn’t a surgeon. A lot of the patients were beyond her ability to help, so plenty of sick people died here. ” “That’s all? ” mother asked, with a frowning. “This house is listed for 1/5 of the price it should because some people died *? ”* “Well, Ma’am, some neighbors say their spirits are still wondering around the house. Including the owner, who felt really guilty…” “If there’s nothing worse than some ghost story let’s sign the papers now”, she replied, very matter-of-factly. “And you, Thommy, don’t let those things scare you. It’s only a superstition. ” My mom, Anna, was energetic and hard-working. She was sure that the house only needed some painting and everything would be fine. Things were not fine. But, at first, they weren’t that bad either. On our first night in the house, I felt something trying to pull my tongue out of my mouth while I was sleeping. I was scared, but I believed mom. I believed her more than anything. So if she said I shouldn’t be impressed by ghost stories, then I shouldn’t be impressed by ghost stories. I was a smart kid too. Loved science stuff. I brushed off the initial incidents as my imagination, sleep paralysis, things like that. The incidents started to grow. The noise of a person walking over a loose board in the hallway while mom and I were together in the living room. Food going bad hours after being cooked, even if the weather was cold. Cries that couldn’t be just the sound of the wind playing tricks on our ears. And finally, the physical harm. It started small too, like whatever lived in the house with us was testing us. Like it wanted to know how much we could take before deciding to leave. I would feel harsh fingers running through my chest while I was sleeping. I know it couldn’t be my mother because her hands were soft, and because I locked my bedroom every night. Then I would wake up with small bruises. A little purple hematoma here and there on my legs and arms, nothing that could not be justified by sleep-walking and bumping on things; I was probably just clumsy. The first time it cut me, I woke up screaming. Nothing was there, but you could perfectly see where the skin was rip open, like someone used a scalpel. That was the first time she had to take me to the doctor because of the house, and the beginning of her Calvary. After that, the bruises worsened, and the beatings started. I woke up feeling that my stomach had been punched, and my arms and legs always hurt when I woke up like I’d been ran over by a car. My face was constantly covered in gashes, and sometimes a large clump of my hair would be missing. My mother, my sweet mother, had no idea what was going on. She refused to believe in the supernatural, so she kept thinking I had some mysterious disease. She kept taking me to doctors and no one could find anything wrong. The spirits – or whatever lived in the house – never attacked her. She would hear weird noises and notice other unnatural things, but was never a direct victim; it started taking a toll on her mental health. The months went by, and I was worse by the day. I constantly missed my classes because my body hurt too much to get up. Of course the school called CPS a few times, but the social workers couldn’t find anything wrong; and, no matter how long they spent inside the house, they were unhurt too. Mom had to pull double shifts to pay for my medical appointments. Luckily the teenage daughter of our neighbor, Kelly, took pity in me and started coming over to keep me company while mom worked; Kelly lived in a one-bedroom apartment with her mother and two younger siblings, so getting to silently hang out in our spacious house was everything she asked for. Kelly was never hurt too. I only started to realize why I was the only victim of the house when my friend Kevin came for a birthday sleepover. He woke up with a black eye and two dislocated fingers. We never talked again. It seemed that our ghost or ghosts only attacked males. When I told mom that, she asked dad to let me live with him. She begged. But he refused. He said she was only doing it for the attention. Lisa intervened, but dad told her it would be dangerous to have me around while their house was being renovated. Like being the punching-bag of some man-hating ghost was safe. I think dad was the one to report my mom for child abuse, and request the support of a psychologist on the case. Maybe he thought he was doing what was best for me, but I don’t think that’s the case. I think dad wanted to destroy mom because he thought she was jealous and trying to ruin his new marriage. Around that time, mom was tired and cranky all the time, and conflicted on her belief that the supernatural didn’t exist. She was a mess. Poor Miss Anna, sleep-deprived because of her double – sometimes even triple – shifts and because I would constantly wake up screaming. Things didn’t look good for her. On her psychological evaluation, she was diagnosed with Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy. The psychologist guy, Dr. Brown, determined that she was purposely injuring me to get attention. The fact that mom was left by her husband was used as evidence that she wanted people to pity her. She lost my custody, then was prosecuted for child abuse. Dad and the psychiatrist testified against her. I told the judge she was a loving mother and would never hurt a fly. Kelly said that it was true that I was constantly bruised, but some of the hematomas would show up during the day, when my mom wasn’t home; she thought that I might be self-harming because I was traumatized by my parents’ divorce. Dr. Brown then told the court that kids and teenagers were easy to manipulate and that our testimonies should be disregarded. Lisa was the only adult defense witness on court. She and my mother had been good friends back in school, and Lisa felt incredibly bad for us. She did everything to try to convince dad to let me live with them. On the months before my mother’s trial, Lisa helped us with some money, sent me gifts, even took me to a child’s counselor. As I said, your mother is a good person, Holly. She was completely mortified by the accusations against my mom. Of course, the prosecutor argued that their long-term friendship and the guilt that Lisa felt for stealing mom’s husband was the reason why she tried to cover for her. Mom was sent to a scary mental ward, where she was constantly pestered by the other inmates and even by the nurses, who were more like jailors; the way the patients were treated was dehumanizing. Lisa took me there to visit, and every time we went, around once a month, mom looked worse. Sick, mistreated and devastated. She died when you were 4. She never even saw my health improving. *** Years went by after that day under the mango tree. I thought about that story constantly, and over time I grew to believe my brother more and more. He wouldn’t lie about something so important. Thomas was always frailer than most, even after he recovered from what he went through in the allegedly haunted house. By 35, his immunologic system was already collapsing, and his transplanted kidney was starting to fail, just like his original one. I knew in my heart that he didn’t have much time left. “Thommy”, I asked one morning when I came to bring him breakfast. He was now spending the majority of his days in bed, too tired to get up. “Do you have any final wishes for me? ” “Yeah, buy me a pony”, he replied weakly, then smiled. He smiled a lot at little things these days, seeming to have found some peace as his death approached. We both still lived at home with my mother, while Dad had dropped everything to travel the country in a motorcycle during his mid-life crisis. Pathetic. “I’m serious. I’d do anything for you. Just say the word. ” He knew I really meant it. “I wanted to bring justice to my mom”, he replied. “Consider it done! ” I then started a seven-month long journey looking for the people who sentenced my brother’s mother to a horrible destiny. I researched a lot about the house; it was still there, empty and more decrepit than ever, referred in the area as “the abandoned hospital” or “that haunted place”. It took me a while, but I learned the whole story from an octogenarian who actually knew the original owner; when I told her that my older brother had lived in that house before I was born, and how much he suffered there, she decided to reveal every gory detail she knew. “My cousin was a voluntary nurse there, once a week. The owner, Matilda, devoted her whole time to the poor and sick. She had inherited a small fortune, enough that she could pay the bills while being a full-time charity worker. Everyone loved her. Everyone tried to help a bit. Even if we couldn’t care for the patients, we still could cook, clean, collect donations, organize medical supplies. Of course she was the backbone of everything, but the whole community was involved”, the old lady explained. I waited patiently as she made a long pause to sip on her coffee. “Even today, everyone in the neighborhood knows the outlines of the story. Great woman, saved a lot of lives, couldn’t save another bunch but it happens to great doctors too. Even those who were lost, at least they had a clean bed to die on, and a hand to hold because they were scared”, she sighed. “But what no one else will tell you is that Matilda was stunningly beautiful, and she never married. You know what that meant back then – that she was available to be taken by force. ” I swallowed my tea like it was shrapnel. I knew where this was going. “A pretty woman on a house that was always open for those in need was an easy prey. She didn’t live in the hospital, but two houses away. It wasn’t uncommon that she woke up during the night and checked up on the patients; insomnia, my cousin said. There was always another person on duty when she wasn’t there, nurse or not, but Matilda did her best to unburden others. ” Tears preemptively started running down my face. “One night, three men entered the hospital pretending to be sick. When she ran to help, they drugged her and assaulted her. The person on duty that night was an older fellow who fell asleep and didn’t hear anything. When he found Matilda there, all bloodied and swollen but still alive, he felt so guilty he had a heart attack. My cousin was the one who took the two of them to the hospital. ” “Did the perpetrators get caught? ” I asked, troubled, as I imagined Matilda’s agony and how scared the other nurse must have been when she found her and the old gentleman. “No. No one knows who they were… because as soon as Matilda was released and back home, one or more of them came back to finish the job. The monsters did it again and this time they killed her, Holly. That’s why I think it might be someone important”, she gave a long, sorrowful sigh. “The police told my cousin she was absolutely forbidden to tell people what actually happened. The older fellow and Matilda died, so she was the only one who knew all of this. She got scared and moved out, but decades later she told me. She couldn’t take this horrible secret to the grave. ” Thomas had mentioned something about the house only attacking men, even though I didn’t pay much attention to it. Now I knew why; it was haphazard and unfair, but I could perfectly understand why Matilda’s ghost had a blind rage and feeling of vengeance towards any male she saw; imagine spending your life helping people and then end up in such pain. It started small too, like whatever lived in the house with us was testing us, my brother said. But she wasn’t testing him, she was slowly torturing him – Matilda probably had been slowly tortured herself. With the ghost’s story in mind, my obstinacy to bring justice to my brother’s mother only grew. The fact that Thomas kept clinging to life all these months felt like a god-sent sign that my mission would be successful, no matter how long I took. Last week, I was finally able to capture all the men responsible for Anna’s disgrace. As soon as I brought them inside the haunted house, I started to see bruises and cuts forming on their faces and limbs. I tied them to some old chairs while hearing a laughter that couldn’t be mistaken by the wind, and loose floorboards creaking under invisible steps. In less than five minutes, each of them had at least one swollen eye or a crooked nose. I smiled as I locked the door from outside, because I had carefully prepared the whole house to allow no escape. Go wild on Dr. Brown, Mr. Prosecutor, Your Honor and Dad, dear Matilda.
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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 I think I’m going to die here. I’m not trying to be fatalistic but things have come apart. They’re all around us, watching. All we can do is wait. So I’ll keep writing. It’s better than staring at the screen or the shadows moving between the trees. It all started with the book. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ “Well? ” I asked, trying to lean over Dodger’s shoulder to read from the page he had open. We were perched on a simple dirt trail at the top of an embankment. “I’ll give you the SparkNotes in a second, ” he said, glancing up. “Just keep your eyes on our friend. ” I turned to look for Doc. He was sleeping, back against a tree near the edge of the path we were on. Holly was sleeping as well, curled up in the grass not far from Dodger and me. I didn’t know how either of them could sleep in the cold. The thin shirt I was wearing provided no protection against the chill. There was a bite in the wind that rustled the trees around us. The night air was crisp and smelled like pine, the stars above us provided an unnatural amount of light. I noticed webs in the forest, billowing silk that fell across the trees like tinsel. The wind stirred the branches and I shivered, wrapping my arms around my chest, trying to keep my body heat from fleeing the sinking ship that was my sorry ass. I couldn’t resist looking back towards Dodger. He had the strangest expression on his face, confusion and worry displayed in equal measure. “What does it say? ” I whispered. Dodger shook his head. “It’’s rambling. Part journal, part I don’t even fucking know. ‘ He dies and the world dies with Body fails, the Mind begins to reach *. ’* There’s just so much weirdness here. Little slices of crazy scrawled across the pages along with a daily journal. ” “What’s the journal about? ” I asked, leaning closer. “Doc. About one of his trips here. If this is right, ” Dodger flipped between pages, “then Doc and his group were here for Years? It doesn’t make sense. But it does seem to be from Doc’s point of view. Jesus, listen to this, ‘He waits on the cliff, attended by the taken/we all hold our borrowed breath, from dying dreams He awakens. ’ Kinda fucking odd, don’t ya think? ” “Everything here is odd, ” I mumbled. “Everything is wrong. ” Doc and Holly were both maimed by the trip. Josh... I couldn’t stop thinking about Josh’s final words. I don’t want to die here. The house trapped him, pressed the air from his lungs and the life from his body. Slowly, horribly. “Christ, ” Dodger whispered, flipping towards the end of the book. He looked up at me, his sharp, blue eyes catching me. “Doc’s friends. So many people died here. ” I moved so I could see the book. Dodger didn’t protest. The handwriting was a mad scramble, black ink stagger-dancing across the page. What I saw was part-journal, part-poem or maybe a fever dream. “The blind seer has shown me. He is fragile, He holds us on shattered shoulders. We walk through Him, we must tread gently. Should he stir, history remembers and recoils. His name is the whip of the ages, ” I read to myself. The rambling verses rushed together into more conventional prose. “Day 88: Johnathon fell down this morning and could not get up. The blood loss was too much for him. We took turns dragging him, none of us had the strength to carry him, not while he struggled weakly like a gutted fish. Annie wanted to bury him but this isn’t a place to waste anything. Who knows what the doors ahead might-” “Where did you find that? ” Doc asked from behind us. I’d let myself get distracted. I wasn’t watching him, hadn’t seen him approach. His footfalls were muffled by the fallen pine needles covering the ground. Doc stood on the path looked ragged in his torn flannel, gray hair tousled and stuck with leaves from where he’d slept against a tree. He didn’t look angry, or concerned. His well-wrinkled eyes just looked tired. Dodger closed the black book and leveled it like a dueling pistol at Doc. “Be honest with me: are you completely fucking crazy? ” “Calm down, ” Doc said. Dodger stood up. I sheepishly followed. It felt like we’d been caught snooping through Doc’s privacy. Then I thought of the unsettling scribbling in the book and I felt considerably less guilty. “Don’t tell me to calm down, ” Dodger said, taking a step towards Doc. Doc stood his ground but raised his mangled hands. “Easy. I’ll answer whatever questions you have, just take it easy. ” “I’m as easy as a goddamn Sunday morning, ” Dodger snapped. Doc made a soothing motion with his hands. “Don’t raise your voice. ” “I’m not, ” Dodger said, raising his voice. I glanced around trying to peer through the shadows between the trees. Did I hear the faint ripple of chimes or was it my imagination? Either way, a slow, animal dread climbed my spine like a ladder. “Dodger, ” I whispered in warning. “What’s going on? ” The raised voices must have woken Holly. She stood just off the path, her skinned hand wrapped in Doc’s flannel. Even in the low light, I could see the bundle was soaked dark red. Holly took a step towards the rest of us, stumbled, caught herself. Her injury was clearly taking its toll but she seemed the most composed out of the four of us. “Don’t yell, ” Holly said. “Sorry, ” Dodger said, sounding frustrated but cowed. “But something isn’t right here. ” He tapped the book. “It’s like an immune system, ” Holly continued, ignoring Dodger. “This house. It’s responding to us like we’re pathogens. ” She looked at the bloody flannel covering her hand. “When we get afraid, upset, that’s how it detects us, I think. ” “Germs it wants to squash, ” Doc muttered. “Okay, ” Dodger said, pacing on the path, glaring at Doc. “Fine. We’ll be calm. But I want to know about the book, I want to know how many people died before you brought us here. ” “Where did you get the book? ” Doc asked. “Did you bring it from my study or did you find it here in the house? ” “What does it matter? ” Dodger responded. I remembered the second, false study we’d passed through, the re-creation. “If you got it here, you can’t trust it, ” Doc said. “The house is only trying to get to you, to piss you off. ” The wind cut again across the path and I shivered. The trees with their tatters of web and leaves seemed to bob up and down eagerly as if they were listening. It dawned on me then how much I hated the house, as if it were a living thing. Perhaps it was. And like all too many living things, the house appeared so needlessly cruel. If Holly was right and we were triggering some kind of immune response, why did it have to hurt us so much? Dodger shook his head. “Maybe, maybe, I don’t know. What I do know is I don’t trust you, Doc. ” “We need to stick together, ” I chimed in, feeling like a child trying to pipe up at the adult table. “Why did you line us up with Josh in the back when we first started? ” Dodger asked, ignoring me. “I don’t understand what you mean, ” Doc replied. “You put us in a very particular order, ” Dodger ticked off a count with his thin fingers, drumming them against the cover of the black book. “Holly, you, me, Aaron, Josh. You put us in that exact order. Why? ” “No reason, just so we could move single-file. ” “Bullshit, ” Dodger spat. “You put Josh in the back because he was the biggest, he was the most likely to get stuck in that fucking hallway. And if he’d been in front, we all would have been stuck. ” “Listen to yourself, Dodger, ” Doc countered. “You’re paranoid, seeing patterns in randomness. The rooms here, you’ve seen it, they don’t make sense. They’re unpredictable. How could I have known we’d even pass through that hall? ” Doc held up his maimed hands. The bandages around what was left of his fingers were stained brown and shredded to rags. “Does it look like I know what this crazy house is doing? Something has riled it up, much worse than I’ve ever seen it, and you’re not helping. That book is ’s like a nest of wasps you’re carrying. It’s affecting your judgment. ” Doc reached out and Dodger pulled back. “No, no, I haven’t sorted it all out yet, but this is screwy, ” Dodger said. He pointed to Doc with the book. “You stay here, we’ll go on and look for the next door. Once we’re out of here we’ll, I don’t know, send help. ” “That’s not going to work, Dodger, ” Holly said, gently. “We can’t leave anyone. ” Doc glanced to me. “I’ll need your help. Just hold him for a sec, I think the book is fucking with him. We need to separate them. ” I opened my mouth, not sure how to respond, but Dodger was already pulling up defensively. “Don’t try it, ” he warned me. I wasn’t really planning to, I thought. Doc took a step towards Dodger. “Hey, just calm-” Dodger shoved Doc backward. Doc stumbled, eyes wide, then pushed back. In the blink of an eye, they were on each other. I heard chimes ripple somewhere deep in the woods. “Hey, ” Holly, yelled, trying to pull them apart. “Stop. ” I did my best to wrap my arms around Dodger and separate him from Doc, but he was strong for someone so wiry. While I was pulling from behind, Doc suddenly lunged forward past Holly and he and Dodger collided. The two of them went off the path, rolling down the embankment at our side. Holly and I could only watch as they slipped out of sight into the treeline. “Idiots, ” Holly whispered, then she was moving, sliding down after the pair. I did my best to ignore the quiet chiming all around us as I followed. We found Doc at the edge of the treeline, scraped but unhurt. Dodger was deeper in the woods. As I came down the slope I saw Doc scramble towards Dodger, grab his arm as best he could and try to drag him back to us. “Help, ” Doc shouted, turning towards Holly and me. “Quick. ” The starlight was weak here in the shadows of the tall trees. But even in the low light I could see the panic animating Dodger’s face. That’s when I noticed the webs, what seemed like acres of them, covering the forest floor like dust in an abandoned house. They started near the treeline and Dodger had landed at the edge of them, half stuck. He was thrashing. “Please, ” he called out. “Oh, God please pull me out. ” I heard hissing from farther back in the trees. A shadow the size of a large house cat dropped from nearby branches. It was a spider, dark brown and bloated. The thing was hissing as it cautiously approached Dodger. His panic intensified. Dodger was hyperventilating and I saw him tear small patches of clothing and skin as he struggled to pull himself free. The spider suddenly skittered forward, fast as a whip crack. But Holly was ready, the toe of her boot catching the thing under its left legs as it came close to Dodger. It flew back, making a sound uncomfortably close to a shriek. The spider rolled as it fell, then reared up on its back legs, exposing its underside. Its belly split vertically and I saw a set of perfect, flat teeth. A human mouth nearly the length of the spider’s torso opened. The shriek came again from the thing, then a gurgling sound, like it was choking. Or maybe it was laughing at us. It made one half-lunge forward, then pulled back, skittering off back up the tree it fell from. “Help me, ” Doc yelled. I tore my gaze away from the high branches where the shadow of the spider had disappeared to find Doc still pulling at Dodger. Holly had situated herself behind Dodger, stepping carefully to avoid as much webbing as possible. She was leaning into Dodger, pushing. I joined Doc and pulled from the other side, struggling to ignore the terrible certainty I had that the laughing spider would fall from the branches above onto my back at any moment. Dodger was more hindrance than help, still thrashing against the webbing and us. Hysteria had a firm grasp on Dodger’s mind for the moment. It felt like hours, though it must have been only moments, when Dodger finally ripped free with a sound like bedsheets tearing. All four of us stumbled back. I saw more movement on the forest floor. Spiders, some as large as a hand, and many others nearly as big rolled towards us like a living carpet. We scrambled, running and tripping back up the embankment. “Shit, ” Holly screamed. She’d been the farthest back, and I saw her kicking out desperately, trying to shake loose a few palm-sized spiders that had latched onto her legs. I turned to help pull her up the rest of the slope. Doc reached out, as well, and even Dodger had recovered enough composure to grab Holly’s arm and pull. The four of us landed back on the dirt trail. Dodger tore off his shirt and began whipping it down at Holly’s legs, attempting to knock the creatures away. One of the spiders was torn away and Holly shrieked. The thing had been holding on with the human teeth on its belly and ripped a long piece of denim and flesh away from her calf. The spider landed near me, rearing up in mimicry of its larger relative, hissing. I was very glad I’d worn heavy hiking boots on this trip. My heel came down on the creature like a gavel and there was a madly satisfying crunch. The other spider was on Holly’s ankle, stubbornly holding on. Dodger couldn’t seem to knock it loose. Quick as a gunslinger, Doc shot a hand out and grabbed the creature between his thumb and what remained of his fingers. With an efficient jerk, Doc popped the thing from Holly’s leg, taking denim and skin with it. Holly rolled away, letting out a weak spurt of vomit, whether from the pain or venom I didn’t know. Doc tried to fling the spider away but it had wrapped legs like knitting-needles around his fingers. He stared down at it in disgust. Instead of biting, the palm-sized horror pulled back and spit a thin stream of murky liquid directly into Doc’s face. He screamed, ugly and raw, and fell to the ground. The impact knocked the spider free. This time it was Dodger’s boot that came down, heavy and final. Doc was writhing on the ground, hands over his face, moaning. Holly was curled in the fetal position, a small puddle of sick next to her. She was silent. Dodger and I stood frozen. Then, like a dead clock jarred back into operation, we both moved at the same instant. I scanned the trail frantically for any signs of spiders. It seemed none of them had followed us up the embankment except the two attached to Holly. Dodger dropped down next to her, cradling her neck and tearing his shirt into a tourniquet, wrapping it around the leg both creatures had bitten. “For the venom, ” he said when he noticed me looking over. We waited there for ten or fifteen minutes before Doc and Holly could move. Holly’s pulse was rapid, her pupils dilated and skin clammy, but she was able to move with assistance. I prayed whatever venom was in her wasn’t lethal. In the real world, I knew most spider bites aren't deadly, but the wildlife in this house made the worst parts of Australia look like a petting zoo. Doc, despite not being bit, was doing much worse. His face was a pulpy mess, red and swollen and wet. Worst of all were his eyes, clouded with a milky grey film. “It’s really dark, ” Doc said after sitting in silence for a long time. “I can’t... I can’t…” “We’ll fix it, ” Dodger promised, still next to Holly. “It’s just temporary. ” He sat shivering, holding Holly close. I could tell Dodger blamed himself for her injury, probably for Doc’s, as well. Personally, I saw it all as a big clusterfuck. Just like the entire trip through the house. An ongoing accident unfolding over the course Days? I struggled to track exactly how long since we went through the blue door. I was hungry and I was cold and I needed a drink like a god needs worship but all I could do was dab uselessly at Doc’s eyes with my sleeve and squeeze his shoulder. He looked small, frail, sitting with his face down and arms wrapped around his knees, more like a kid than a man at the tail-end of middle age. Dodger looked drawn out as well, thin and pale. I doubt I looked much better. ’d been through the wringer. Even though she was the smallest of all of us, the most hurt (I guess Doc could argue that point), even with all of that she was the one to keep us moving. “We have to go, ” she said, bracing against Dodger to pull herself up. The action seemed to cause a wave of nausea to hit her but she swallowed it down. “Staying here just means dying slow. ” “Might be better than dying fast, ” Dodger muttered, but he was standing as well, propping an arm around Holly, which got him a nod of thanks. She removed her tourniquet. “It’s not going to make much difference now, and we have a lot of walking to do, ” Holly told Dodger, handing him back the torn remains of his shirt. But thank you. ” I helped Doc to his feet and played the dual roles of crutch and seeing-eye dog. We were a sad little parade walking together on the trail. But we were still moving. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ There was perpetual night in the forest. I’m not sure how many hours we followed the path but the sun should have gone up, if there was a sun to rise. Strange voices called out to us from the dark of the woods. They whispered and they threatened in half-formed words or garbled languages. I remembered the spiders with the human mouths on their bellies and I sent a prayer to anything listening that whatever was in the trees would stay there. The trail terminated in an open clearing. White wicker furniture dominated the space. Chairs and lounges and tables lay scattered on the manicured grass. There was more light in the clearing and the moon shone blue-white and low to the ground. At one edge of the glade was a massive movie screen. It looked so surreal, standing on its own with no walls for support. “We should move on, ” I suggested. “Quickly. ” The words had hardly left my mouth before I heard chimes from the woods around us. “Shit, ” whispered Dodger. The clearing was surrounded by faceless children. Even though her features were only a blur, I recognized Holly’s abandoned imaginary friend standing at the edge of the forest. Dozens of other blank forms encircled us. In the trees above them, dark shadows moved and made gibbering noises, skittering from branch to branch. “What is it? ” Doc asked. “You genuinely don’t want to know, ” Dodger said. “We’rrounded. ” “Why aren’t they moving? ” Holly asked, leaning against Dodger for support. There was a dull silver gleam on the massive screen. I couldn’t see a projector but detected the faint pop and whirl of celluloid film. I sank into the nearest wicker chair. “Maybe we’re supposed to watch a movie. ” After a few moments of hesitation, everyone else found a seat. Dodger and Holly kept scanning the treeline. “I have a strong feeling we’re not going to like whatever we see, ” Dodger muttered. Doc chuckled, a sound that rolled into an exhausted laugh. I think he could sense us staring at him. Doc winked one cloudy, blind eye. “Of all the shit the house could throw at me, watching a film is the one I’m least afraid of. ” The insanity of the trip, of finding our group stuck in a clearing, surrounded by monsters, forced to watch a fucking movie, it broke something in me. I laughed. After a moment, Dodger and Holly joined in, the laughter of the tired and lost. We’ve been sitting here waiting for nearly an hour for the movie to start, long enough for me to type this up. My phone’s battery, modern wonder that it is, won’t last much longer, so I’m keeping it off as much as possible. The ring of blurred faces hasn’t gone away but it hasn’t come closer, either. Holly is doing worse. She keeps throwing up and shivering. Doc, somehow, is sleeping. “Do you still have the book? ” I mouthed to Dodger as we waited. He only shook his head then looked back to Holly as she shuddered next to him. I could feel Dodger’s guilt, and his fear, but I was having trouble feeling anything at all. Only tired.

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I was wearing blinders to stave off the reminders of your image Never contemplating the incinerating of my image The rites of spring had no meaning In my brain And I could cling icicle-ing Just the same And all the time you saw me You could not thaw me CHORUS And now you've made blind eyes open Sunlight streams in Everything's clear as crystal Enlightenment Like a frozen snowfield I could never reveal My true colors I would never listen to all that I was missing With the others You stepped into my field of view And triggerd My cupid snare who would have dared to figure That all the time you saw me you could not thaw me.
Blind Eyes.
His sense of humour feeds my soul.

In my reevaluation of how best to treat my skin I've started to dabble a little on this new world of skin serums. So what is a serum anyways? It's similar to a moisturizer, but in the form of a liquid oil. It differs in that while a traditional balm or moisturizer is formulated to, well, moisturize the skin, while a serum gives back the good oils to the skin which had been stripped away by harsh processes such as cleaning with soap or running a razor blade across your skin. So in this evaluation, I’ll be covering two currently available wetshaving focused serums. In the later half of 2017 Boston based company Sē'bŭm made splashes by releasing their oil serum in luxury glass, cork, and wood packaging. I was fortunate enough to get a bottle of Sē'bŭm Lime on loan from a local friend to try it out for a few weeks in December and January. A couple months earlier in September, Chicago based Oleo & Co released a similar product, Good Oleo, which I have been using since around November. I want to start out by giving you a look at the two ingredient list; Good Oleo Ingredients: Jojoba Wax Ester, Hemp Seed Oil, Argan Oil, Squalane (Olive), Rosehip Oil, Shea Olein, Kokum Butter, Karanja Oil, [Spearmint EO, Eucalyptus EO, Lavandin Grosso EO, Peppermint EO, Balsam Oleoresin, Cedarwood EO (Himalayan), Tea Tree EO, Cade EO. ] *note, brackets added for emphasis to differentiate between ingredients and scents, important later. Sebum Lime Ingredients: Organic Jojoba Oil, Virgin Red Raspberry Seed Oil, Squalene Oil (from olives), Virgin Passion Fruit Seed Oil, Virgin Organic Argan Oil, & Aromatherapy Essential Oil Blend. You can see that these serums are quite different than traditional aftershave balms, splashes, or milks. They contain no water, alcohol, witch hazel, aloe, or any of the primary components we have been used to seeing on the labels (which I assume many of us actually read and attempt to understand. ) Let's take a look at the claims made by each producer for their products. Oleo & Co simply states that Good Oleo is "A nourishing blend of soothing skin loving plant based and essential oils that are good to your face. " The Sē'bŭm makes four claims on their website, which I'll list and compare with Good Oleo: "Petrochemical Free: We never use preservatives, petrochemical fragrance oils, or plastic packaging material" Since the ingredients on the Sē'bŭm label only list "Aromatherapy Essential Oil Blend" we can only take their word for it that there are no fragrance oils. Hopefully he doesn’t plan on selling in the EU. Good Oleo lists out each essential oil used. "Superior to Jojoba: Jojoba Oil is a wax mono ester. This only accounts for 30% of your natural sebum. Our balanced formula is synthesized by nature accounting for sebum's entire composition" This statement is a little confusing, are they saying that their jojoba is superior? Or that their product is superior to just applying unadulterated jojoba oil? Either way, both products use jojoba as a primary ingredient, just list it slightly differently, as well as a slew of other skin nourishing goodies. "Alcohol Free: Alcohol Splash Aftershaves disintegrate your natural lipid barrier and beneficial flora. Alcohol further exacerbates transepidermal water loss leaving your skin dehydrated" Yes, it's pretty clear that there is no alcohol in either product. Diving into the idea of alcohol being bad for you skin is worthy of its own separate post and has most certainly been covered numerous times already. "Won't Clog Pores: Post-Shave Balms are highly comedogenic with a general rating of 4 on a scale of five. Sebum Gold on the other hand has a very low rating of under 1. 5 allowing quick absorption by the skin" So here's the thing about the idea of comedogenic factors. It's an extremely inaccurate measure with dubious origins. The idea dates back well into the first quarter of the 20th century. It's evaluation process is outlined well in a two part paper in the Archives of Dermatology, Volume 98 (Kingman and Katz 1968 and Kingman 1968) in which human sebum was applied to the inner ear canals of rabbits, once daily for five days, for two weeks. The ears were then evaluated, first visually (much to the emphasized regret of the author), then histologically (under microscope) to determine the amount of "horny material" (sebaceous buildup) in the inner ear hair follicles. This experimental process has been conducted, on rabbits, with numerous substances in the decades following and eventually a scale was created, assigning each oil or compound a numeric value of 0 (good) to 5 (bad) to indicate how likely that substances is in clogging pores. To compare the comedogenic factors of the ingredients lists for Good Oleo and Sē'bŭm I used the first Google result when searching for a comedogenic scale, by herbal dynamics beauty. The site did not list kokum butter, which had to be sourced by searching for it directly. One key difference we can see when comparing ingredients is that Sē'bŭm lists "Aromatherapy Essential Oil Blend" whereas Good Oleo lists out each essential oil on the ingredient list. For the purpose of calculating the comedogenic factor, we should exclude these essential oils used purely for scent, not only because their percentage in the final product is extremely small, but also because Sē'bŭm simply doesn’t list them. Since some ingredients have a comedogenic rating represented as a scale, for example Squalene is listed as 0-1, the final number also must be a rating from lowest to highest possibility. Sebum comes out at between 0. 6 and 1. 2, and Good Oleo between 0. 625 and 1. 0 on the comedogenic scale. So to claim that the product "won't clog pores" is likely fairly accurate for most people. My takeaway from this is just how inexact if a science it is, and the use of "non-comedogenic" on a label has simply become a buzzword in modern day cosmetic advertising. Is there some truth behind it? Of course, but everyone's skin is different and each person will tolerate a product differently. So we’ve covered the purpose of a serum, the ingredients, the claims, and hopefully opened your eyes to the potential benefit of incorporating a serum into your daily routine, either as a post shave product, or before going to sleep. Now let’s get down to an actual review. I've been on a real alcohol-free kick lately, completely eliminating it from my post-shave routine. For years I considered myself to have oily skin and vehemently protested using any sort of moisturizing product, sticking strictly to alcohol splashes. If it burns, it must be working, right? Maybe my skin has changed as I’ve moved out of my twenties, but I’ve been learning the importance of proper hydration in all aspects of life, face included. I began by mixing an aftershave balm with my alcohol splashes and eventually eliminated the alcohol all together, even going so far as to combine a balm with a serum for maximum moisture. To test Sē'bŭm Lime, I used it daily the better part of two weeks, both with and without a balm kicker. Note, this is was all done during the dry winter in New England. I had previously been doing the same with Good Oleo, and continue to use Good Oleo nearly daily. The Sē'bŭm absorbs into the skin quickly and does not leave any oily sensation afterward. In fact, for me it actually creates a slightly matte feeling on my skin for the better part of the first hour, which I quite liked. I would typically use about three drops rubbed in my palms and spread across my face, either after shaving or before bed. So how do I feel about Sē'bŭm? Honestly, it's great. My skin felt soft and I maintained what I would consider a good level of moisture throughout my day. However, I feel completely identical using Good Oleo. If you were to give me a blind, unscented test of both products, there is no way I would be able to differentiate them. An evaluation of the price difference just helps to emphasize how unlikely it is that I would purchase Sē'bŭm for myself. A 4oz bottle Good Oleo costs $25 plus shipping, coming out to $6. 25 per ounce. Sē'bŭm costs anywhere between $125-$365 (or more) per bottle plus shipping (yes you pay the shipping) and is roughly $25-$73+ per ounce. The upper range being estimates for the "SG customs" range. So why the huge price difference when the ingredients aren't all that different? Well, it comes down to the packaging. Sē'bŭm comes in a very luxurious looking glass bottle, whereas Good Oleo will arrive to you in a simple plastic bottle. More-or-less $100 difference purely in presentation. Now I did find faults with both types of packaging. The spout on Good Oleo is rather large and trying to get only a couple drops is difficult. I've rectified this by using a small rollerball applicator which I've filled with the serum. On the opposite end of the spectrum, the Sē'bŭm bottle spout is more precise, but once opened, I don't think you could ever get a reliable seal on it using only the cork lid. Transporting it runs a high risk of leaking once that cork has been removed, even once.  In my testing, I found zero difference in the performance of Good Oleo versus Sē'bŭm Lime, and the chances of me paying an extra $100 or more for the unwieldy glass packaging is a flat zero.

Glory to God.

 

 

 

 

 

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