Công Ty Sợi

CÔNG TY TNHH DỆT SỢI CONTINENTAL là một công ty có trụ sở tại Việt Nam, chuyên sản xuất các loại vải dệt thoi thực sự độc đáo. Chúng tôi đã thành lập vào năm 2015-04-08 00:00:00, với mã số thuế là 3901203321. Với dây chuyền sản xuất hiện đại và nhân viên có kinh nghiệm chuyên môn, CÔNG TY TNHH DỆT SỢI CONTINENTAL đã nâng cao chất lượng sản phẩm và dịch vụ của mình. Sản phẩm của chúng tôi đem đến sự hài lòng cho khách hàng bởi độ bền, đẹp mắt và mức giá cạnh tranh.

The bodies were gone. The void was gone.

2024.12.11 06:48 Interesting_Wear3017 11 months since disc budge. Time to consider surgery?

Asking here because not getting taken seriously by doctor and physio. 31M. Formerly very athletic, played basketball and australian football. Used to exercise ~5-6 days a week Backstory: Over summer I renovated my yard and my back was very flared up with I now know was a bulging disc. Over the course of a couple of months my symptoms got worse (sciatica, nerve pain in back) but I assumed I was just fatigued from pushing myself. I then fell off the top rung of a ladder, landing on my lower back which made it even worse. I naively assumed I was bulletproof and still tried to push through after this. I was still jumping (dunking) and running like a normally would... and then a few days after the ladder fall I finally hit a breaking point where my body wouldn't let me walk anymore. I collapsed and had to crawl to bed. I had spasm in all my muscles - glutes, quads etc were all locked up. MRI then confirmed bulging L5/SI. Not particularly large. Doc said - with PT you should get better. 'Build yourself a back brace' with muscle around your spine. For the first 2-3 months I was so cooked I essentially did nothing. I could hardly walk, struggled to sleep so I just rested and did minor bodyweight exercises to try to let it heal so I could begin the proper PT. Since then I have been diligently following PT/rehab for the last 8ish months. Separately - due to my back 'turning off', I have ended up with significant knee pain as my quads/knees took the stabilisation load for many months. Current status: - Have progressed from bodyweight on most exercises to weighted. e.g, Can do back extensions with ~10kg weight plate, hip thrusts with weight, core exercises with weight etc. Have gotten significantly stronger over this period. - The nerve pain does feel a little better after back extensions in particular. I suppose that activating those muscles helps free the nerve somewhat. - However, pain has never gone away. My nerve on my right side is constantly pinched - sending sciatica pain all through right leg to my foot. I am constantly battling with spasm... I feel my glutes/hips filling with spasm all the time. - Very uncomfortable to sit. Discomfort walking any distance over ~2k - Can't do any real form of cardio. Running a definite no, cant get more than 200m without unbelievable nerve pain. Walking is better, but I have to fully engage my core (as in tensing as hard as I can). As soon as I relax at all, nerve pain returns. Swimming the same. Cycling is bad because of the posture and knee pain mentioned earlier. - I also have discoloration in my lower back, which doesn't seem to be a symptom anyone else mentions. Around the disc it appears as light bruising, which has now been there for 11 months.... seems odd to me. I'm now kind of caught at a crossroads where I don't really feel as if I am progressing. My life is quickly slipping away from me. Almost all of my hobbies were sports and exercise related, which I now do none of. I am losing my fitness, gaining weight because of lack of exercise and it is a constant mental battle to stay positive. Doc & Physio say - it can take up to 1.5yrs of physio to get better. So do the physio for longer and then assess. That means another at least 6 months of this. But I don't know if I can wait that long.... Would love to hear from: Those we stayed the course of PT & no surgery - when the turning points were in your journey or what changed to release your nerve? Would also love to hear from those who had a microdiscectomy. I am considering this but I am worried that will limit my ability to get back to my 'peak' - jumping, sprinting etc... it seems as if my back would then always be at risk of reinjury. That said, at this point I'd be happy if I could even just go for a jog...

2024.12.11 06:32 RoundaboutRecords Huey Smith and The Clowns - Twas the Night Before Christmas (1962)

Picked this up last year at my local shop. Was super excited to finally have it! The previous spring, a beat copy came up on eBay and I messaged the seller numerous times and made offers. He wouldn’t budge on price. It ended up selling for twice the price I got this copy for and my copy is in way better shape. I can be impatient in my hunt, but this time it paid off to wait. Pianist Huey Smith released three albums on the small New Orleans based ACE label (that operated from Jackson, MS). A great session player on such tracks as Frankie Ford’s Sea Cruise, Smith had his own hit with the original version of Rockin Pneumonia and the Boogie Woogie Flu (later a hit for Johnny Rivers). This Christmas collection was prepared for the 1962 holiday season, carrying a master date of 11-19-62 in the runouts. It was pressed by Monarch as well. While Smith sings on most of the tracks, there’s a few tracks that feature the 20 year old voice of the guy seen in the last photo. Do you recognize him? This was the first LP to feature him 😀

2024.12.11 00:48 No-Pineapple-3355 Extremely long yet extremely profound — that is, if you actually make it until the very end.

Recently I read the amazing account of a man who submitted to a scientific hypnosis experiment. While under the influence of a light hypnotic trance the subject was ordered to pick up a glass from the table. Although he was a strong, athletic type, the man could not budge the glass from its position. His most strenuous exertions could not lift the glass that was light enough for any child to remove. Why could he not do it? Because the scientists, after placing him in the trance, had told him that it was impossible to pick up the glass. Because his mind was convinced that it could not be done, his body was unable to carry out the command to lift it. What a dramatic demonstration that no person can really obey commandments which he believes to be impossible of performance! Is this the reason so many Christians are living weak, defeated lives? There is no question that the popular, modern theology has been teaching millions that no one can really live without sinning. The Ten Commandments have been portrayed as an idealistic code produced only for the purpose of making people conscious of their need. Many modern Christians are turning more and more to a soft, lenient stance on the subject of law-keeping. They believe God’s love is incompatible with strict rules and penalties for violation. That is a very comfortable doctrine but completely foreign to what the Bible teaches. Millions are being conditioned to break the great moral law of the universe — without feeling any guilt! The Word of God gives no one an excuse to feel relaxed about sin. It is the central problem of every person who has been born. Like a highly contagious disease, sin has infected every soul with the germs of death, and no earthly cure or deterrent has been found to halt the fatal progress of the sickness. From the first appearance of sin in the Garden of Eden it has been totally disruptive of everything good. Never in one instance has it been able to coexist with righteousness and holiness. The requirements of God make it utterly impossible for sin or disobedience to be a part of the Christian lifestyle. The new tolerance for it is not biblical in any sense of the word. Jesus came to save people from it; He came to destroy it. It will never enter into heaven. Our attitude toward it must be uncompromising. There can be no question of making it more acceptable by diminishing the amount of it or changing its form. It must be destroyed. And the only means of eradicating it is by receiving the fullness of Jesus Christ and His grace into the life. How strange it is that so many church members have now become apologetic for sin, as though it cannot be prevented from triumphing in the life of a Christian. How dare we misrepresent the power of God’s grace in the gospel! Jesus has already defeated the devil, and no Christian should be intimidated by an inferior, defeated foe. We have no business justifying the transgression of the Ten Commandments. It is serious enough to engage willfully in an act of sin, but it is infinitely more deadly to defend it as something which cannot be prevented. To say that victory is impossible is to deny the adequacy of the gospel and to negate a large portion of the inspired Scriptures. In addition, it adds support to the original charge of Satan against God, and gives a paralyzing, false security to everyone who believes in it. Often people are defensive of sin because they have not been able to stop doing it in their own strength. For example, when they can’t stop smoking, they must find a rationalization for its presence in their lives. Instead of making the humiliating confession that they can’t conquer it, they fabricate arguments that it really doesn’t hurt them or that no one can be perfect. Or the popular, convenient doctrine that no one can really live without sin anyway. It is probably safe to say that the majority of Christians today are resigned to falling short of the moral law. In fact, they are quite satisfied that God doesn’t even expect them to fulfill that law completely, either in the flesh or in the spirit. The effect of such a teaching is exactly what one would expect — multitudes of emotionally happy, but disobedient, church members who feel that any concern about keeping the commandments is nitpicking and legalistic. What a delusive strategy of Satan! As the inventor of the doctrine, the evil one is simply supporting his ancient accusation that God was asking too much. He accused God of being unfair by requiring something that was impossible. He was able to convince a third of the angels that God was unreasonable to expect obedience to His law, and he has been trying to make everybody else believe it since that time. Think about it for a moment, and the entire scheme begins to make a lot of diabolical sense. Satan knows that sin is the only thing that will keep anyone out of heaven. Since sin is the “transgression of the law,” he had to perfect a plan to make people look lightly upon breaking the law and also cause it to appear unobjectionable (1 John 3:4). To make the idea acceptable to Christians, Satan actually was able to disguise it as a doctrine and foist it upon a compromised Christianity. In every evangelistic crusade, we meet it in one form or another, usually at the point of the law and the Sabbath. The inconvenient claims of obedience are shrugged off with a “Well, nobody can keep the Ten Commandments anyway.” But the problem doesn’t end there. Even Christians who have accepted the claims of the moral law are not too concerned about how well they fulfill it either. In a subtle way they have been affected by the prevalent belief that too much concern about obedience is a form of salvation by works. Incredibly, some seem to be so fearful of keeping the law too closely that they actually make provision to break it. By doing so they perversely comfort themselves for not being legalistic. How could people committed to commandment-keeping ever come to such a confused contradiction within themselves? Exposure to a false concept of righteousness by faith is only part of the answer. Much of the problem is based upon human failure and weakness of the flesh. Because they found themselves stumbling in their efforts to be perfect, they finally concluded that it was impossible not to sin. From that point it was easy to start interpreting Bible texts to support their weak experience. Satan exploited the psychological bent of the human mind to rationalize, and soon they had developed a comfortable doctrine that accommodated their occasional deviations from the law. Consequently, most Christians today are resigned to an alternating experience of victory-defeat, victory-defeat. To them it is the approved lifestyle of normal Christianity. But something is fearfully wrong with this position. In the first place, doctrine should never be based on feeling or human experience. It must be rooted in the plain, unequivocal teaching of the Word of God. It is true that Bible texts can be assembled which seem to support the doctrine of spiritual imperfection. We are assured that all have sinned, that the carnal mind is enmity against God, and that man’s righteousness is as filthy rags. But all the verses about failure, sin, and defeat are in reference to the unregenerate experience of a person. There are literally scores of other texts which describe an opposite experience of total victory and sinless living. In every case they are referring to the Spirit-filled life of a converted, committed child of God. This distinction must always be recognized in the reading of the Scripture. The gospel of Jesus Christ is the power of God unto salvation. His grace is stronger than all the concentrated forces of evil. Jesus came to save His people from their sin. No one who reads the sixth chapter of Romans intelligently can believe that the Christian is free to practice sin. Paul utterly devastates the doctrine that a believer should keep on falling into sin. It is true that provision is made for cleansing in case sin is committed, but God’s perfect plan made it possible for man to overcome every sin and to live a life of perfect obedience through Christ. In fact, the promises of the Bible are so clear and specific on this point that it is hard to get confused. No secret meaning or hidden reservation can be found in the myriad of texts which describe the victorious experience of the born-again child of God. And just because one may not have grown into that fullness of faith which brings constant victory, he should not, therefore, deny the power of God to give such deliverance. When Peter began sinking in the Sea of Galilee, it was not because God’s plan or power had failed. Peter could have rationalized, like so many modern Christians, and said, “God didn’t want me to walk on the water, and besides, it’s impossible for anybody to do such a thing anyway.” Like our first parents we still tend to place the ultimate blame on God when we fail to follow His plan of holy living. — Total Victory Promised — The Spirit of God seemed to anticipate the struggle many would pass through in accepting the biblical assurances of total victory. Consequently the inspired writers were moved to use almost fanatical language in describing the possibilities for overcoming sin. Superlative expressions are utilized which actually boggle the mind. Instead of saying we may be saved, the Bible says we can be “saved to the uttermost” (Hebrews 7:25). Instead of saying we may conquer, it assures that we can be “more than conquerors” (Romans 8:37). Instead of being told that we can just triumph, we are told that we may “always triumph” (2 Corinthians 2:14). Instead of promising whatever we might ask to help us in our spiritual battles, the Bible says He will give us “exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think” (Ephesians 3:20). And the verse just prior to that one clearly guarantees that we may “be filled with all the fullness of God” (verse 19). Admittedly, many of these promises are too vast for our human minds to comprehend fully, but surely they are intended to impress us with the magnitude of God’s resources in our behalf. If the language sounds exaggerated it is only because we are too feeble in faith and too weak in the flesh to believe such purity and sanctification could ever be fulfilled in us. We tend to trust our feelings quicker than the Word of God. Is it important to believe the promises exactly as they read? Yes, because it is only through those promises that deliverance can be accomplished. “Whereby are given unto us exceeding great and precious promises: that by these ye might be partakers of the divine nature, having escaped the corruption that is in the world through lust” (2 Peter 1:4). Notice that it is “by these” that we escape the corruption of sin. What are “these”? The promises of God. The sequence of victory is plainly marked out in this fantastic text. By faith in the promise we become a partaker of the divine nature, and through the power of that new nature in us we are able to escape the corruption of sin. In other words, everything depends on the surrender and commitment of one’s self to the indwelling Spirit of Christ. “Without me,” Jesus said, “ye can do nothing” (John 15:5). Equally important is the inspired comment of Paul, “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me” (Philippians 4:13). That little expression “all things” is the key to victory for every one of us. It includes power over drugs, immorality, appetite, pride, and every act of sin that would rob us of eternal life. — All Things At The Tip Of Our Fingers — The big point here is that when you get the power of Christ in your life, you have everything else you could ever desire. “He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?” (Romans 8:32). There is that term again — “all things.” You will find it also in 2 Peter 1:3: “According as his divine power hath given unto us all things that pertain unto life and godliness...” When you put those texts together, an incredible picture emerges. By claiming the presence of Christ in your life, you also receive everything that Christ possesses. Paul described it this way: “But of him are ye in Christ Jesus, who of God is made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption” (1 Corinthians 1:30). Here the “all things” are broken down into very particular, individualized experiences, and we begin to see that Peter was right in stating that God has given us all things that pertain to godliness. Those Christians who doubt the possibility of overcoming sin completely should read these verses carefully. What do those words “righteousness,” “redemption,” and “sanctification” include? All three of those words promise us more than deliverance from the guilt of our past sins. The word “redemption” is not limited to redemption from the guilt of sin, but from the power of sin also. “Sanctification” is a word that describes continuous, daily growth in overcoming sin. “Righteousness” literally means right-doing and applies to a dynamic fulfillment of God’s will. They are all big words, but they all have the connotation of being set free, both from the guilt and the practice of sin. Every child of Adam needs two things desperately—forgiveness for the past, and power for the future. Redemption includes both of them; and the idea that full deliverance from the guilt of sin is included, but only partial deliverance from the power of sin, is a perversion of the gospel. Jesus did not come to save us from the consequences of sin only, but to save us from the sin itself. Salvation is not a negative thing; not just the absence of something. He did not come just to take away something — our guilt — but to give us something — victory over sin. For God to forgive us and leave us under the power of continued sin would make God an accomplice of sin. He not only counts us righteous through the imputation of His atoning death, but He makes us righteous through the impartation of His victorious life. After thoughtfully reading the entire sixth chapter of Romans, if you need more assurance that victory can be yours, read the following: 1 Corinthians 15:57 — “But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” 1 John 5:4 — “For whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world: and this is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith.” Philippians 2:5 — “Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus.” 2 Corinthians 5:21 — “… that we might be made the righteousness of God in him.” 1 John 3:6 — “Whatsoever abideth in him sinneth not: whosoever sinneth hath not seen him, neither known him.” Let us return for a moment to the analogy of the hypnotized man. He could not physically lift a small glass from the table because his mind was so fully convinced that it couldn’t be done. Has Satan seriously been able to immobilize the church through the power of his hypnotic, lying assertion that pure obedience/perfection is simply impossible? Because unfortunately, it certainly seems so. No one is going to put forth any serious effort to do something that he believes to be impossible. Obviously then, those who believe they cannot live without sinning are not attempting to live without sin. No reasonable person will waste time and effort in a vain struggle to accomplish nothing. That brings us to an interesting question: Can a person believe that there is no way to stop sinning, and yet make plans not to sin? Logically, it would seem highly unlikely, if not impossible. Yet the Bible commands us to “make not provision for the flesh, to fulfill the lusts thereof”? (Romans 13:14). Do we indeed make provision for sin by holding that it is impossible not to sin? Jesus even tells us in Matthew 5:48 “Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.” — To Him That Overcometh — The entire book of Revelation is addressed to the seven churches of Asia. In each of the churches certain ones received high commendation and glorious promises of heavenly reward. Without exception the blessing was extended “to him that overcometh.” Those seven churches symbolize every period of the Christian church from the apostles to the end of time. If victory over sin is not possible, no soul will be saved from those centuries of time. To deny the possibility of total victory over sin is to rob God of the glory of His mission and limit His gloriness. He came, the Bible says, to destroy the works of the devil. Those works are the works of sin. If no one claimed His power to overcome sin completely, the devil’s accusation would be confirmed. The requirements of God would be exposed as too difficult to obey. Jesus stated that He had come “to seek and to save that which was lost” (Luke 19:10). Here He indicated that more than just people needed to be restored. “That which was lost” included a sinless character. His mission was to counteract and neutralize the entire program of sin-defilement introduced by Satan. Restoring the image of God in man is a very important part of the everlasting gospel. That work of the gospel must be done before Jesus comes and not as some magical afterthought of our returning Lord. The book of Revelation identifies the crowning characteristic of the redeemed as obedience. “Here is the patience of the saints: here are they that keep the commandments of God, and the faith of Jesus” (Revelation 14:12). “And the dragon was wroth with the woman and went to make war with the remnant of her seed, which keep the commandments of God, and have the testimony of Jesus Christ” (Revelation 12:17). “Blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city” (Revelation 22:14). How significant it is that man’s condition for remaining in Eden is also the condition for being restored to Eden. Anyone who believes obedience is unimportant should read again the dramatic story of Adam and Eve. A tiny, physical act of sin led to all the stark tragedy of the past 6,000 years (yes, Earth is only 6,000 years old and — in fact — NOT billions of years old that the powers that be have successfully deceived the nations into believing…) Those who are restored to that lost paradise will have demonstrated that they can be trusted with eternal life. Through faithful obedience in the face of death, they will have proven Satan’s charges to be utterly false. Their steadfast loyalty will be an eternal guarantee of the security of God’s restored dominion. What can we say, then, concerning those who look so lightly upon the good works of obedience? They are subjects of grave deception and are playing into Satan’s deadly sin-trap. The most glorious experience of the truly converted is to break the pattern of self-indulgence and sin. Under the rule of the Spirit of God, fleshly habits may be conquered and expelled from the life. Through faith in the promises unbelievable power may be released into the life of one who is willing to give up the enjoyment of sin. The heart of God longs for us to take Him at His word and to claim the power He has promised. It is the only road to real victory. But no one can experience true victory who does not believe that perfection is even possible let alone reachable. Read again the assurances of the Bible. Do not try to twist them to match the weaknesses and failures of your human experience. They mean what they say. Deliverance is yours for the believing and the asking. Right here we need to pause and consider an objection which is always brought against those who believe in total victory. It goes something like this: If you believe it is possible to live without sinning, are you able to say that your own life is free from sin? Although the question deserves an answer, it should be pointed out that the objection is not relevant to the issue. If the Bible establishes a truth, it should be received on the grounds of its inspired authority and not on the basis of the messenger’s experience. If victory over all sin is possible through Christ, it is true, whether the preacher has claimed it or not claimed it. Further, the work of sanctification is a progressive, lifelong experience and can never be considered as finished in point of time. Even if one could be unconscious of any known sin, he could never boast of being sinless. In fact, the person who is closest to perfection would surely be the least likely to recognize it. Because the nearer he gets to Jesus the more imperfect he will appear in his own eyes. The claim might also be made that the doctrine of victory over sin is highly idealistic and too theologically complicated to be practical. But nothing could be farther from the truth. Even a child can understand the simple faith-transaction of appropriating the promises of the Bible. There is not a habit or sin known to man that cannot be conquered through faith, pure obedience, & allowing the Holy Spirit to fully and throughly take you through the widely known “sanctification process” that every new believers must undergo. In the next few minutes you will be able to appreciate the beauty of this divine victory plan. You will learn how to stop smoking, fornicating, cursing, overeating, gossiping, or committing any other sin. Let nothing distract you as you proceed towards your very own inevitably won victory. Since so many are struggling with cigarettes, I will use that indulgence as an illustration of the victory we are describing. Put your own problem into the text, and then take the four steps to glorious victory. — The Hidden Secret of Victory — Have you heard about the evolutionary way of triumphing & receiving full victory over addictions or any other type of sin? It is sometimes called the “tapering” method, but generally it just doesn’t work. Oh, it partially works, of course, because old age takes care of some temptations and sins, and time settles the rest when death comes. But do you know why “trying” does not work in overcoming the devil? Why can’t we fight the devil for a few months and finally drive him away? Because the devil is stronger than we are. We could fight him for a year, but he would still be stronger than we are at the end of the year. Trying will never break the power of sin in a single instance, because we’re facing an enemy who will always be stronger than we are. What, then, is the answer to our weakness and defeat? This question leads us to the sweetest and most sublime secret in the Word of God. Let us study it thoughtfully and with much prayer. First of all, one must understand that all of heaven’s gifts are available to us through the promises of the Bible, and we receive them by faith. Peter describes the “exceeding great and precious promises” and assures us that “by these ye might be partakers of the divine nature” (2 Peter 1:4). Mighty power is stored within the promise to fulfill itself to all who claim it in faith. So few are willing to believe that the promised blessing becomes theirs the very moment they believe it. Why is it so hard to believe implicitly that God will do what He promises? Now let us come down to the very heart of victory and consider the four simple scriptural steps that any believer may take in claiming God’s power. Four texts will illuminate the amazing transaction. First: “But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 15:57). Allow your mind to savor the fantastic message of these words. Victory is a gift! We do not earn it by our efforts, or deserve it because of any supposed goodness. The only thing we need do is ask for it, and the victory will be given to us freely by Christ. He is the only one who has ever gained the victory over Satan, and if we ever possess the victory, it will have to come as a gift from Him. Let me ask you something. Do you need victory in your life over some binding, miserable habit of sin? So many lost souls are slaves to gluttony/appetite, to alcohol, toxic relationships, chaos, etc, etc. Others are struggling helplessly against impurity, depression/anxiety, anger, worldliness, etc. The Bible says that you may have the victory as a gift through Jesus Christ. Do you believe He will give you that power if you ask Him? How certain can you be that God will answer your prayer for victory immediately? Here is how sure you can be — just as sure as Christ’s words are true! Our second text is Matthew 7:11, “If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?” Is it a good thing when you ask for victory over tobacco, drugs/alcohol, lustful and perverse sexual desires, recklessness, narcissism, or any of the many other different fleshly & moral evils? Of course it is! And you don’t even have to ask if it is God’s will! He has already told us in the Bible that it is His will to destroy the works of sin and the devil. If we pray for more money or a better job we should always ask according to His will, but the victory over sin is promised to every one who asks in faith. Will God give the victory when we ask Him? Jesus said He was more willing to give this good thing than we are to feed our children when they are hungry. He is waiting to honor your faith and to “supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:19). These assurances are so open-ended and unlimited that our minds are staggered by it. Why have we been so reluctant to apply for the provisions of grace? Why is it so hard to believe that God means exactly what He says? He will keep every promise. — Faith Makes It So — Here is the next question. How do we know we have the victory after we ask Him? Simply because He said we would have it. We know God did not lie. We can believe His promise. The very moment we ask, we should accept the fact of fulfillment, thank Him for the gift, and get up and act like it has been done. No kind of proof-feeling or sign should be demanded or expected. The self-fulfilling power in the promise is released in response to our faith alone. This brings us to the third text, found in Romans 6:11, “Likewise reckon ye also yourselves to be dead indeed unto sin, but alive unto God through Jesus Christ our Lord.” The word “reckon” means to believe, or to consider it done. Every particle of faith should be focused on that one request for victory and then it should be accounted as done. Do you remember how Peter walked on the water? He asked Jesus if he could step out of the boat onto the raging sea, and Jesus told Peter to come. But how long did Peter do the impossible by walking on the water? The Bible says, “When he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me” (Matthew 14:30). What was Peter afraid of? He was afraid of sinking and drowning. In spite of Christ’s assurance that he could safely walk on the water, Peter began to doubt the word of the Master. That is when he began to sink. As long as he believed the promise of Jesus and acted in faith, he was safe. When he doubted, he sank. Now, what is the impossible thing as far as you are concerned? It is overcoming whichever toxic, addictive, unhealthy habits that you may struggle with. And Christ says, “Come to me. I will give you the victory.” As long as you believe that you have been delivered, you will have the victory. It is as simple as that. The very moment you ask for victory it will be placed in your life as a reservoir of power. You won’t feel it, but it is there. It will remain there as long as you accept it in faith. For some people the deliverance is so dramatic that they lose even the appetite for the sin. Addicts have sometimes been delivered from the craving, but this is not the usual way God does it. Usually, the desire remains, but in the moment of temptation, the power to walk past the temptation springs forth from within. Faith accepts the fact of deliverance and constantly claims the victory which is in the secure possession of the believer. The final step to victory is described in our fourth text, Romans 13:14. “But put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof.” So strong is the confidence in the appropriated power of God that no consideration is given to falling under the power of that sin again. Under the old “trying” plan, provision was made to fail in most cases. Cigarettes were placed on a shelf, and the smoker said to himself, “I’m going to try never to smoke again, but if I don’t make it I know where they are.” But under the “trusting” plan, we have no reason to fear failure on the grounds of human weakness. Victory does not depend on our strength but on God’s power. We might fail, but He cannot fail. Cigarettes are thrown away. All plans that might involve any degree of compromise are abandoned. How typical of those who do not quite trust their own strength to win the victory. They make provision to fail. With God there need be no provision to fail. Someone might raise the objection that this could be discouraging. Suppose the person does fail? Even Peter began to sink. Would it not shake confidence in God if the victory was not maintained? No. Peter’s sinking had nothing to do with the failure of divine power. It did not change Christ’s will for him to walk on the water. It only pointed out Peter’s need of stronger faith to enable him to obey Christ’s command. Our faith could weaken. We might need to be reminded of our total dependence upon His strength. But this does not diminish the beautiful plan of God to impart power and victory through “exceeding great and precious promises” of the Bible. Without faith by the receiver not even God’s promises can be appropriated. The limits are clearly defined in the words of Jesus, “According to your faith be it unto you.” (Matthew 9:29) So there it is, my friends in Christ, in all of its simplicity. And it works! If you are truly willing to be delivered, it works. Nothing will help the one who is not willing to give up the cigarettes. But if you want it, it is there. Victory, power, deliverance — just reach out in faith and it is yours. Believe it and claim it this very moment. God wants so desperately for each & every single one of us to be free!

2024.12.10 22:14 necromensa This was my doing…

I don’t see a lot of this here so maybe it will resonate with some. Married to a wonderful woman who was significantly younger than me. This was my third marriage and her second. Married for 10 years, together for 11. I have a demanding job as a C-suite executive and she (with my help) started a successful business and we have a beautiful home and a 5 year old child. Over the years, for reasons I am beginning to unpack, I became critical, impatient, and negative. The stress of building a career and life took their toll and I became hyper fixated on career goals to the exclusion of all else. And then, suddenly, she was done. She is a positive person and didn’t let me know she was unhappy until it was too late. But that doesn’t negate the fact that I was treating her poorly. Essentially taking her for granted. No budging. Left the house to stay with family and filed less than two weeks later. We are attempting to build bridges of communication for the sake of our child, but it’s clear that she is gone. Now I am focusing on learning the tough lessons and building a relationship that fully supports our child and shields them from as much harm as possible. Just today, as she stopped by the house to pick up some clothes, we discussed the division of assets and she became very agitated and seemed shocked that the next step of this journey is breaking apart the systems that provided us a wonderful and privileged life. Especially the business that was started during our marriage (we are in a very straightforward community property state). She said that, ideally, she would get the house and business. I almost laughed. No, we split it all and divide it equally. “But that could bankrupt the business!” Yes. Unfortunately, it could end the business. I think she believed that, because I am open about her issues being true, that I would roll over. Not so. I would love to reconcile and work on a future. Beyond that, I want to amicably divide the assets. I am also very isolated with most, if not all, of my relationships being work related. I’m lonely. But I’m committed to spending time working on me and my child and building a new life. Has anyone been successful in building a functional and healthy relationship with the ex? If I can’t make the marriage work, I’d at least like to make the divorce work.

2024.12.10 20:15 Material_Tea_6173 I Successfully Claimed Diminished Value on My Car, Here’s How I Did It.

TL;DR: Successfully claimed diminished value (DV) on my 2023 Tesla Model 3 after a $15,000 accident repair (other driver 100% at fault). USAA lowballed me with a $1,300 offer based on flawed “Rule 17c” calculations. I pushed back using Maryland’s precedent for DV claims, hired an independent appraiser for a report, and sued the at-fault driver in small claims court for $3,800 (the appraiser’s valuation). USAA ignored me until I filed the suit, then settled in full. Key tips: know your state laws, back your claim with professional evidence, and be patient.

I’ll preface the below with a few disclaimers that my situation was specific to my state (MD) and against USAA. Your results may vary depending on how your state views diminished value claims.

In July my 2023 Model 3 was hit and the other driver was deemed 100% at fault. The car had just over 11,000 miles and the total repair cost was $15,000.

I filed for DV with USAA, and they contracted a firm (Alacrity) based out of Georgia to calculate the DV payout. Alacrity calculated a DV amount of $1,300, which I disagreed stating my car lost a lot more sale value evidenced by lower trade in quotes as compared to exact same vehicles without an accident history.

USAA refused to budge, saying their calculation was based on “a complex algorithm using real market data”. Turns out that was complete bullshit, and Alacrity was simply basing their numbers on rule 17c (I confirmed this with them over the phone after pressing them on it) commonly used by insurance companies in Georgia for these types of claims. This rule although standard in at least GA, is completely arbitrary and biased for insurers as it places an arbitrary 10% cap on the total DV amount, and further reduces it through other factors like accident severity and vehicle mileage.

To my benefit, and this was key to my case, Maryland has a precedence for these cases to base diminished value on the inherent value of your vehicle. This is to say my car is worth X amount less than an identical car without accident history because prospective buyers will perceive my car to be worth less because of the accident. To solidify my claim, I contracted an independent appraiser to provide a written report on what the DV amount for my car was.

I provided said report to USAA and they still wouldn’t budge, so to force their hand I proceeded to sue their driver in small claims court for the full DV amount stated in the report. I provided them updates of the case filed with the court, and they ghosted me for over a month until I received an email from a contracted lawyer with a ton of legal documents which although part of the process, I can assume were done as an intimidation tactic as well to get me to drop the case. I didn’t reply to the lawyer, and the next day they emailed me again to discuss settlement. I got in contact with them, and finally, without any push back they agreed to settle in full for the $3,800 I was suing for.

USAA beat around the bush for 4 months, were dishonest and tried to gaslight me into accepting their measly payout, but with some patience and research I was able to reach a fair settlement.

I hope this helps anyone in a similar situation. It’s a lengthy process and certainly can get exhausting, but I’m happy to not have been taken advantage of in the end.

2024.12.10 15:51 Then_Marionberry_259 DEC 09, 2024 LEM.V MINING LEASE APPLICATION SUBMITTED FOR NORRA KÄRR

) announces that an application for an Exploitation Concession (“Bearbetningskoncession”) 25-year mining lease has been submitted to the Mining Inspectorate of Sweden (“Bergsstaten”) for the Norra Kärr Heavy Rare Earths (HREE) Project.

Norra Kärr had previously been granted a Bearbetningskoncession, in 2013, when the Company proposed that mining and all processing activities be located at the Norra Kärr site.

The Norra Kärr project was fundamentally redesigned in the 2021, following feedback from stakeholders, completely decoupling mining and chemical processing activities, with the latter relocated away from the mine site. The redesign was the basis for the Preliminary Economic Assessment completed in 2021 (“PEA 2021”). A reminder of the financial highlights from the PEA2021 are included later in this news release.

The Bearbetningskoncession application is accordingly for the quarrying operation that is proposed at the Norra Kärr site, producing a HREE concentrate and the industrial mineral nepheline syenite. Downstream chemical processing of the HREE concentrate will take place at an industrial park alongside similar industries, with Luleå being a preferred location.

When compared to the Pre-feasibility Study in 2015 (“PFS 2015”), the PEA 2021 reduced the area for operations at Norra Kärr by 65%, reduced water usage by up to 30%, and increased the conversion of excavated materials to products from ~ 1% to at least 60%. The Company plans to conduct testwork in Q1 2025 to further investigate the market potential of both nepheline syenite and aegirine. Aegirine is classified as waste in the current design but could be a saleable product.

Kurt Budge, Chief Executive Officer, states:

The PEA was prepared by SRK (UK) Ltd. (“SRK”) and all figures in the PEA are in US dollars unless otherwise specified. SRK re-evaluated the Project with the objective to improve resource utilization, project sustainability and substantially minimize its environmental footprint compared to the design in the PFS 2015.

Norra Kärr is an upstream asset that could be the EU’s first step in HREE primary production and the establishment of a secure, resilient, and sustainable value chain for REEs; helping to strengthen the EU’s self-reliance and to reduce strategic dependency on China.

There is a railway within 30 kilometers of the Norra Kärr site. The location provides uninterrupted road and rail access to Baltic ports and onto European markets where both REE refining capacity and REE enabled technology consumers are located.

EU demand for rare earth metals is expected to increase six-fold by 2030. The EU is almost 100% dependent on China for HREEs 1

A report by The European Rare Earths Competency Network (ERECON) in 2014 titled Strengthening The European Rare Earths Supply-Chain stated that 'The development of new sources of heavy rare earths outside of China and greater recycling must therefore remain an urgent priority for Europe.' 2

The report, now a decade old, stated that 'With adequate funding and permitting, mining could begin [at Norra Kärr] before 2020 and secure European REE supply for decades.' Norra Kärr is one of two 'best known' advanced stage REE projects in Europe, which given size and grade could potentially contribute to Europe’s security of supply of REE for decades to come.

In May 2023, the European Raw Materials Alliance (ERMA), in the report titled Materials for Energy Storage and Conversion - A European Call for Action 3 , identified over 50 investment cases targeting materials for energy storage and conversion across Europe and beyond, and a total investment need exceeding EUR 15 billion. Norra Kärr was one of the projects identified, that combined with the others, if realized, would make a significant contribution to the EU’s needs by 2030. The report acknowledged that there is limited primary production within the EU and for some materials related to energy storage, the EU relies almost entirely on imports.

On 18 March 2024, the European Council adopted the regulation to establish a framework to ensure a secure and sustainable supply of critical raw materials, known as the Critical Raw Materials Act (CRMA).

The CRMA introduces clear deadlines for permit procedures for EU extracting projects, allows the Commission and member states to recognize a project as strategic, requires supply-chain risk assessments, requires member states to have national exploration plans and ensures the EU’s access to critical and strategic raw materials through ambitious benchmarks on extraction, processing, recycling and diversification of import sources.

On 23 May 2024, a call for Strategic Projects as defined by the CRMA was opened. The CRMA designates strategic projects to increase EU capacity to extract, process and recycle strategic raw materials and diversify EU supplies from third countries. Strategic raw materials are crucial for the success of the green and digital transitions as well as the resilience of the defense and aerospace sectors.

Leading Edge Materials is a Canadian public company focused on developing a portfolio of critical raw material projects located in the European Union. Critical raw materials are determined as such by the European Union based on their economic importance and supply risk. They are directly linked to high growth technologies such as lithium-ion batteries and permanent magnets for electric motors and wind power that underpin the sustainability transition of society. The portfolio of projects includes the 100% owned Woxna Graphite mine (Sweden), Norra Kärr Heavy Rare Earth Element project (Sweden), Bergby lithium project (Sweden) and the 51% owned Bihor Sud Nickel Cobalt exploration alliance (Romania).

The information was submitted for publication through the agency of the contact person set out above, on December 08, 2024, at 11:30 PM Vancouver time.

Leading Edge Materials is listed on the TSXV under the symbol “LEM”, OTCQB under the symbol “LEMIF” and Nasdaq First North Stockholm under the symbol “LEMSE”. Mangold Fondkommission AB is the Company’s Certified Adviser on Nasdaq First North and may be contacted via email

or by phone +46 (0) 8 5030 1550.

2024.12.09 22:33 marigolds6 Race Report - Memphis St Jude Marathon

Yes, I (M51) had one and only one goal, break 3:30. No B or C goals, just that one goal.

This was my sixth marathon. In 2022, I ran 3:30:49 at Mo Cowbell. Cramping up in the last 2 miles, I narrowly missed 3:30, not understanding yet that I should expect every marathon to run a little long on distance. But I figured I would have to do better my next race.

while on a 3:25 pace for a 3:45 finish. A comeback race on a hot day at

with a 3:35:15 (below my goal of 3:36:28) and top 10% in my AG.

, trying out my 3:30 strategy. The heat was an issue, but three portapotty trips were a bigger problem as I still pulled a 3:31:53 and an AG 2nd.

Leading up the Belleville, I trained with Fleet Fleet RC St Louis. I strarted from a consistent off-season base of 35-40 mpw with lots of 5k-10k races. Belleville Marathon training block was 10 weeks averaging 50 mpw with a peak of 65 miles followed by a 2 week taper to Belleville. This block included the 6 hr Watershed Endurance Runs at week 5, basically a 34 mile run at about a minute slower than my long run pace. Longest run (besides the 6 hrs) was 20 miles in week 10.

I then did only a week of recovery before jumping back into a second 6 week St Jude training block averaging 57 mpw with three 20-mile runs and a peak of 70 miles before a 3 week taper. I was at a total of 1055 miles over 22 weeks by the day of St Jude. I did a total of 4x 20-mile runs plus the Watershed runs and Belleville.

My weekly schedule was roughly 6-9 mile easy Monday and Wednesday, speed work Tuesday (3mi short intervals) and Sunday (6-8 miles long intervals race pace or faster), 60-80 minutes best aerobic effort Thursday, 12-20 miles long run Saturday.

I started carb loading Wednesday, aiming for roughly 750g, drinking a lot of gatorade! Got a ride down from Edwardsville, IL, to Memphis during the day Friday. Race temperatures projected to start at 32F up to ~50F. I did most of last taper week runs outside in sub-freezing temperatures in short sleeves and shirt, so I planned to race from the start in the same plus thin gloves with hand warmers. I gear checked my warmups about 10 minutes before the race. I had no issues with being too cold on the course doing this.

Unfortunately, the corrals were jammed and I gave up trying to make my way up to corral 3 and instead started back in corral 7.

Early on, I did a ton of weaving, starting back in a slower corral. By mile 6, I was already at +0.2mi for distance! I tried to stay focused on good tangents and lines throughout the race because of that. Although my watch splits look good, I was considerably slower on course splits because of the weaving and did not ease into my pace as well as I would have liked.

Course continued to stay jammed until the half marathon split. I stayed very steady in the 7:50-8:00 range, a little below my target 8:00 pace early but comfortable. My lap average heart rates were amazingly steady, ranging from 159-161 this whole time! I did figure out that the gun time clocks on the course were almost exactly 10 minutes behind my watch start time, which was very helpful.

With the course emptied out from the split, I started focusing more on hitting tangents and good lines while keeping my pace steady. Strangely, I had yet to see even the 4:00 pacer, much less any of the sub-4 pacers. More on this later. After mile 13, I started working towards a negative split, dropping 3 straight sub-7:50 miles while dipping my heart rate every so slightly down to 157.

Mile 18 had the longest climb of the course. Only 60 feet, but I struggled a little and slowed to an 8:13 but didn't budge my heart rate. My right quad was noticeably painful at this point, but my calves were fine and that's where I normally cramp first. Although I was hoping for more negative splits, I did stay very solidly around 8:00 after mile 18. Around mile 21, I started experiencing slight cardiac drift, moving steadily from 161 up to 164 by mile 24.

The interesting motivation I had during this stretch is I started to catch up with pacers, first the 4:00, then 3:55, then 3:50. I figured, given the corral stagger, that I needed to be about a minute ahead of the 3:35 pacers at the finish to hit 3:30. But I am running a 3:30 pace and I'm only 10 minutes behind gun time and have yet to see even the 3:45 pacers!!

The last two miles were hard, especially mile 25. It just felt like an unending series of little 10-20 foot climbs. Each climb, my pace dipped considerably, going well over 9:15 pace on the climb up the ramp at the mile 25 marker. I seemed to have more than a 60 second cushion though, so as like as I could push back under 8:00 I knew I was good.

During mile 24 though, is when something really strange happened. At one point, I could see three different pacer groups in one straight stretch on Union Parkway. Here we are with less than 3 miles to go, and three different pacers (all sub-10 paces) are all somehow within a half mile of each other, and I still have not caught the 3:45 pacers!

I did briefly catch sight of the 3:35 pacers pushing up the ramp at mile 25 and thought I was going to catch them. Instead, they pulled away from me the of the race. Another two hills later, I rounded the bend onto Union Ave and I could see the finish line less than 300m ahead on a straight downhill with 90 seconds left! To say I found another gear is an understatement. I ran the next 200m at sub-7:30 as I accelerated down the hill and pushed home the last 100m at sub-7:00 pace to finish with a 3:29:41 and hit my goal and PR!

And those 3:35 pacers? Nowhere in sight.

I staggered through the finisher chute and made it three rows into Autozone Stadium before I sat down for 30 minutes :D Not only did I get my PR, but I took home 8th in my AG out of 101 runners and 176th out of 1846 overall.

As a side note, I later found out that our team passed $130k raised

and hit our yearly fundraising goal too! I could barely move most of Saturday and Sunday and will definitely finally be resting after this long season!

For the year, I ran 3x marathons, 1x ultra, a total (so far) of 2180 miles while setting 50k, marathon, 10k, and 5k race PRs. (Maybe I need to fit a half in here at the very end of the year?) For now, I am going to focus on establishing a 50mpw base to start next year and see if I can hit 2500 miles while I think about my next marathon goals.

2024.12.09 15:55 AsparagusCurious1597 Horrifying Experience as Three Women Traveling in Goa

Recently, my two friends and I (all women, fresh out of college and working) went on a trip to Goa. Unfortunately, it turned into a nightmare due to constant harassment from men. On our first day, we asked our Airbnb host if it was safe to celebrate my birthday on the beach late at night. She assured us it was fine until 1–2 AM, so we decided to return by 12:30. We drove to Candolim Beach around 11.55 PM, parked our vehicles, and noticed three men eating ice cream laughing at us. We ignored them and went ahead. After celebrating my birthday near the waves, those same men approached us, saying they had seen us parking specifying “you are three single girls” and guessed it was someone’s birthday because we had cake. They tried to engage us in conversation, but we politely thanked them and ignored them. They then started making inappropriate comments to each other about us (“kat gaya” and “mai to cake ki baat kar raha tha”). Feeling uncomfortable, we moved further away and hoped they’d leave, but they stayed near the only exit. We spotted a policeman at the gate and thought we’d be safe to leave. When we got to the parking area, the men followed us there, waiting by their vehicles. Feeling uneasy, we called some male friends on a video call to pretend we weren’t alone. Even after waiting for a long time, the men didn’t leave. One of them came over, said, “I think we made you uncomfortable,” and introduced himself. I thought they were apologizing and would leave, but I was wrong. When we finally started driving back, we noticed them tailing us on their two-wheelers, driving unnervingly slowly. Hoping they’d leave, we stopped at a shop for 10 minutes, but they didn’t budge. My friends and I decided to rush back to the Airbnb, driving as fast as we could. I was alone on my Activa, leading the way, and unfortunately missed a turn. To my horror, the men caught up to me and surrounded me on their bikes. I was terrified and didn’t know what to do. Thankfully, my friends arrived shortly after, and the men left after seeing where we were staying. I was so shaken I burst into tears when we finally got back to the Airbnb. The following days weren’t much better. Whether on beaches or highways, we faced constant stares, comments, and harassment from random men. This was supposed to be a fun girls’ trip, but it turned into one of the scariest and most uncomfortable experiences of my life. Ladies, if you’re planning to visit Goa, please stay vigilant and prioritize your safety. We learned this the hard way.

2024.12.09 13:49 Tall-Reply8917 I am lost.

I was diagnosed with PCOS over 11 years ago. I am frustrated to the point that i don’t see the benefit in any hard work. So the only good thing is that I get my periods every month. Everything else is crazy. I go through the loop each time. I reduce carbs within the construct of my Indian diet. I walk/jog for 40 minutes. I try and keep myself calm though that is a hit or a miss. And I am on Inositol. I do not restrict as in I would eat some icecream or a burger on Friday night after the whole week. But my weight does not budge. I lose the water weight at max but nothing more. I stay between 176 to 187 pounds no matter what. Then on observing for a few months, I will stop all exercise in frustration and gain a pound or two and then stop and lose it again. I am tired. For the past 3 years though, I am doing a night shift job from 7 pm to 4 am and that has affected my health as well. I sleep at odd hours and stay tired. I eat 2 meals and yet no weight loss. I eat at 2 or 3 pm and then I eat dinner at 9 pm. Nothing aside from that other than a coffee on some days at around 6 pm. I feel like I am being punished for wanted to eat one meal a week that I like and one coffee with oat milk that I need a day. I have to admit i don’t like exercise but I am despising it a lot more as I see no results. I have a bad knee and that makes it worse. I am tired of it all.

2024.12.09 12:30 saphle Jellyfin update from 10.9.11 Running on CasaOS

Hi folks. I am running CasaOS on Ubuntu Server and everything going fine and dandy. Specifically am running Jellyfin installed from the CasaOS app store and from a little while back using the Android TV Jellyfin app, it has been giving me the message saying that my server version needs to be updated to 10.10.0 minimum otherwise it will no longer be supported. Ordinarily in the past this wasn't a problem as I would just click 'check update' and it would do its thing. Now it wouldn't budge, so I went into the app (Jellyfin) settings and changed the docker image tag to 'latest' and it updated and then Jellyfin stopped working. It would login but trying to play anything gives the error message "Playback failed due to a fatal player error." and even just browsing the library is unresponsive until i went back to 10.9.11. But on the forums everyone else seems to be working well with the latest stable build. So not sure if its just a me problem or its for everyone on CasaOS. I though I would run it through here before trying a fresh install using Portainer or something.

2024.12.09 03:36 JadedCitizen2022 Epson 4205 is not working....has new cartridges & claims there's not enough ink...Please help me

I bought this printer towards the end of January of this year. It was working fine until a couple of weeks ago when I had to replace the ink cartridges, The last time I did that was in April. I don't know why my printer is doing this to me but it claims the ink is low even though it hardly printed anything since I installed the new cartridges, which are made by Epson and not a cheap imitation. I went through the print head alighnment etc as usual after I installed them and the pages didn't look good. They were splotchy here and there and streaked. I am tearing my hair out trying to figure out what to do, I have no clue what I am doing. The maintenance box, last time I checked about 2 weeks ago, was fine. I tried resetting it, updating the firmware and this piece of garbage just won't budge. I want to scream. I desperately need this brick to work because I have very important legal documents to print and this must be working asap. I tried trouble shooting on Epson's website and a number of YouTube videos to no avail. Is it time for me to junk this printer? Can I at least get a refund on the newest cartridges? I can't afford to buy a new printer. It's only been here for nearly 11 months and I am now stuck, unable to do my very important paperwork.

2024.12.08 23:32 ItchyContribution758 I'm still anemic

I've had basically no bleeding or any of the other symptoms for around 3 months now, I got a blood test done last week. The results come in, and lo and behold, the hemoglobin hasn't budged at all from 11. It's been like that for around 4 months. If I'm not bleeding then where the fuck is the blood going? Even little cuts couldn't produce that large of an effect.

2024.12.08 18:33 Blue_Bombadil Anyone have success weaning a snooze feed by delaying it?

Baby is nearly 9 months, STTN finally, but 5am wakes are stubborn. DWT is generally 6:30am (11 hrs overnight is about as much as she can manage). Different bedtimes have not budged it. We get to DWT by snooze feeding. Tried weaning the snooze feed by decreasing ounces, but at 2oz she’s like, nah, not going back down after this, I am UP! So figured we’d try the delay tactic. Anyone do this? She wakes up crying. My concern is if we’re just letting her cry 5 min at a time, she’ll get more and more awake. She’s at 3/3/4, am open to stretching WWs…

2024.12.08 18:19 HerScreams Room 7 Looked like any other motel room...it wasn’t

The drive was supposed to be easy.

I'd been feeling restless for a while, even though my travel blog was doing well. Traveling and writing had become repetitive, and I felt like I was just going through the motions. I missed the thrill of finding new places and the sense of adventure that made me start the blog in the first place. Lately, everything felt forced, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing something important.

I remembered when every trip felt like a real adventure, like the time I found a hidden village in the mountains or met a kind stranger who showed me a secret spot only locals knew about. Those moments used to fill me with excitement, but now everything felt dull. I needed something to remind me why I loved traveling - like when I found that hidden waterfall in Oregon or camped under the stars in the desert. I wanted that feeling of wonder again.

Driving from Chicago to Denver was supposed to help clear my mind.

But as the miles went by, everything looked the same: flat farmland that stretched forever. The monotony of the endless road was almost hypnotic, and I still felt lost and uninspired. It was like I was running away from something but didn't know what, and nothing I found along the way seemed to fill the emptiness.

It felt different, almost like I was meant to stop there. The streets were unusually empty, and the buildings looked old and forgotten, like time had stopped. There was an eerie stillness in the air that made me shiver, like something was watching me from the shadows.

Council Bluffs was on the border between Iowa and Nebraska, next to the Missouri River. It had a simple charm - a gas station, an old diner that looked like it was from the 1950s, and a small church. Something about it made me curious, like there was more beneath the surface waiting to be discovered.

The motel I found was called the Silver Rest Inn.

It was right off the main road and looked old and run-down. The paint was peeling, and the old neon sign flickered as the sun started to set, casting long shadows across the parking lot. It was the kind of place people only used to sleep before moving on, and I figured it would be good enough for three nights.

As I parked my car, I felt the temperature drop suddenly, and I thought I heard a faint creaking sound, like an old door swinging in the wind. It made me uneasy. The air felt heavy, like a storm was coming, and my stomach twisted with worry.

I tried to ignore it and grabbed my bag, heading into the front office.

The room smelled like dust and something metallic that I couldn't quite place. Behind the counter was an old man with tired eyes. He nodded at me and spoke in a rough voice.

"Yeah, for three nights please…" I said, smiling even though I felt a bit uncomfortable.

He hesitated for a moment, then handed me an old key with a wooden tag. "Room 7," he said. He paused, looking serious. "There are a few rules you need to follow."

He nodded and pushed a small, yellowed piece of paper across the counter. The ink was smudged like it had been written a long time ago.

"It's nothing too serious," he said, but I could hear the unease in his voice. "Just things to keep in mind."

I took the note and looked at it. It had five rules:

A shiver ran through me. "Is this some kind of local superstition?" I asked, trying to sound amused, though my voice was shaky.

The old man's smile faded, and he looked at me seriously. "Just follow the rules. Room 7... it's different."

I wanted to ask more, but the way he looked at me made me stop. Instead, I nodded and took the key and the note. "Okay, I'll follow them," I said, trying to sound casual.

The room was at the far end of the motel, and the door looked worn from years of use. I turned the key in the lock, and the door opened with a heavy click. The room was what I expected-a bed with an old floral bedspread, a small wooden table, and a bathroom with a chipped mirror. The air was a bit stale, so I walked over to the window and pulled the curtains aside to let in some fresh air. Outside, everything was quiet, with only the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze.

I looked at the note again, feeling a strange sense of worry. It was just a room, I told myself. I had stayed in plenty of rooms like this. But I couldn't shake the look in the old man's eyes-it was like he was warning me. The air felt heavy, and I could swear I heard a faint rustle, like something moving in the shadows, making my skin prickle.

The first night, I ignored the rules. I left the bathroom door slightly open, even though I felt a shiver telling me I shouldn't. What harm could it cause? I got ready for bed, feeling exhausted from the long drive. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, and as I lay there, I couldn't help but think about the strange rules. The unease lingered, making it hard to fully relax. Eventually, exhaustion took over, and I fell asleep.

I woke up at 3:00 a.m. The room was dark, but something felt wrong. The air was damp, like just before a storm. I looked at the bathroom, and my heart skipped a beat. The door, which I had left partly open, was now wide open. The darkness inside seemed to move, almost like it was alive. My heart started to race, and then I heard it-a deep growl coming from the bathroom, like an animal in pain.

Fear took over, and I forced myself to move. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the floor cold beneath my feet. I crept toward the bathroom, my heart pounding in my ears. The growl stopped as soon as I touched the door, and I quickly pushed it shut, locking it.

I stood there, breathing hard, waiting for any other sound. But the room was silent again, and slowly the damp feeling in the air went away. I climbed back into bed, pulling the covers tightly around me, keeping my eyes on the bathroom door until I finally fell asleep. My dreams were uneasy, filled with fleeting images of shadows moving across the walls and whispering voices I couldn't understand. Every time I thought I was about to make out the words, I would wake up in a sweat, only to find the room quiet and still.

The next morning, I tried to shake off the fear from the night before. Maybe I hadn't closed the door properly, and the strange growl could have just been the wind or old pipes. I didn't want to think too much about it, so I spent the day exploring Council Bluffs. I took pictures of the Union Pacific Railroad Museum, the old Squirrel Cage Jail, and the Missouri River. The town was quiet and had a sort of eerie beauty to it. People were polite but not very friendly, and they seemed to look at me strangely when I mentioned the motel.

"You're staying at the Silver Rest Inn?" the waitress at the diner asked, her smile fading.

"Yeah," I said, trying to act normal. "Why? Is there something I should know?"

She hesitated, then looked around like she wanted to make sure no one else heard. "Just... follow the rules," she said quietly. "People who don't... well, they are never found again."

A shiver ran through me. Something about the way she said it made me feel like I was already in danger, like there was some dark secret everyone in the town knew but wouldn't share with outsiders. That night, back in Room 7, I made sure to follow the first rule. I closed the bathroom door firmly before getting into bed. I looked over the list again, my eyes lingering on the second rule: Do not open the window after 10:00 p.m., even if it gets hot.

The room felt stuffy. The air conditioner rattled, but it wasn't doing much to cool the room. By 11:00 p.m., I was sweating, and my shirt stuck to my skin. I knew what the note said, but no matter how hard I tried, I felt like I couldn't breathe, like something was very wrong with my throat. I walked over to the window and opened it, letting the cool night air in.

The breeze felt amazing, and I sighed with relief. But then I heard it : footsteps on the gravel outside the door. Slow and deliberate. My whole body tensed up. The footsteps got louder, and then there was a soft knock at the door. Then another, louder this time, like whoever it was wanted to be let in. My heart pounded as I crept towards the door, my eyes on the peephole.

I looked through the peephole, but there was nothing...just darkness. The knocking continued, getting louder and louder, echoing in the small room. I backed away, my gaze darting to the open window. The curtains moved with the breeze, and I rushed over to close the window. As soon as it was shut, the knocking stopped. The silence that followed was almost scarier than the knocking.

My hands were shaking, and I stood there, trying to make sense of it. There had been no one there, but the knocking and footsteps were real. I rushed to close the window, but it was like something invisible was pushing against it, making it almost impossible to move. I struggled with all my strength, my breath coming in ragged gasps, until finally, with a surge of effort, I managed to close it. Suddenly, the bathroom door burst open, and what seemed like an obscure creature on four legs lunged out. It looked like a twisted, shadowy animal-its body was long and skeletal, with jagged, bony legs that ended in sharp, claw-like points. Its face was featureless, a black void that seemed to absorb the light around it. My heart stopped as it came at me, and I closed my eyes, bracing for impact. But then... nothing. The sudden silence was deafening, as if the entire room had been swallowed by emptiness. I felt a strange, hollow stillness, like the world itself had paused. When I opened my eyes, the creature was gone, as if it had never been there. I collapsed onto the bed, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. I felt like I was losing my mind. I picked up the note again, and the words seemed even more important now. These weren't just silly superstitions-they were rules meant to keep me safe from forces beyond my comprehension.

That night, sleep did not come easily. Every small sound seemed amplified-the creak of the bed, the rustle of the curtains. I kept my eyes fixed on the bathroom door, half-expecting it to swing open again. When I finally drifted off, my dreams were filled with dark figures standing at the edge of my bed, their faces hidden, their whispers growing louder until I woke up, drenched in sweat.

By the third night, I was terrified. I knew there was something in Room 7, something dangerous. I had to follow every rule exactly. I closed the bathroom door, kept the window shut, and made sure to listen carefully before answering any knocks. But there was one rule I had forgotten-the cup of water on the nightstand.

It was past midnight when I remembered. My heart started to pound as I rushed to fill a cup of water from the bathroom sink and set it on the nightstand. I lay back down, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm myself. The room felt different, like the walls were pressing in on me, the shadows growing darker and more defined. I could feel the weight of something unseen watching me.

When I finally fell asleep, my dreams were dark and unsettling. I was back in the motel room, but everything felt wrong. The walls seemed to move, expanding and contracting like they were breathing, and shadows gathered in the corners, whispering. Figures stood at the edge of the bed, hidden by darkness. I tried to move, but I felt like something was holding me down, a heavy pressure on my chest that made it hard to breathe.

I woke up suddenly, my heart racing. The room was completely dark, and as my eyes adjusted, I saw something that made my blood run cold-long, slender handprints on the outside of the window. A chill went through me, and then I felt it-a cold breath on the back of my neck.

I turned quickly, but there was nothing there. The room was empty, but I felt like I was being watched. I looked at the cup of water on the nightstand-it was empty. My stomach sank. I must have drunk it in my sleep, breaking another rule.

The growl returned, deep and echoing around the room. The shadows gathered again, twisting and shifting into shapes that almost looked like people. My breath caught in my throat, and I shut my eyes, trying to make it all go away. I couldn't help but think, 'This can't be real. Please, let it stop. I can't take this anymore.' The fear was overwhelming, and I felt a desperation I had never known before. The growling got louder, coming from everywhere at once, a horrible, guttural sound that seemed to seep into my very bones.

When I opened my eyes, the figures were there, surrounding the bed, their faces hidden, their dark hands reaching towards me. They were closer now, and I could see the outlines of their forms, the way their fingers seemed to stretch and curl unnaturally.

The figures paused, their hands hovering over me. The shadows seemed to ripple, as if they were deciding what to do. Then, slowly, they began to fade away, dissolving into the darkness. The growling got quieter until the room was silent again. The air was still and cold, and I lay there, shaking, tears in my eyes. I knew I couldn't stay another night-if I did, I was certain that whatever lurked in the shadows would consume me entirely. The feeling of dread was overwhelming, and every instinct in my body screamed that I was in immediate danger, that the next encounter would be my last.

I knew I couldn't stay any longer. After the encounter with the creature, my instinct was to run. I grabbed my things and rushed downstairs, my heart pounding, every step echoing in the silence of the empty motel. I needed to leave-right now. My hands were trembling, and the fear clawed at my chest, making it hard to think clearly.

But when I reached the exit, the door wouldn't budge. I twisted the handle again and again, my panic growing with each failed attempt. It was locked, as if it hadn't been used in years. The windows were boarded up, and the dim light filtering through made everything look even more hopeless. I pounded on the door, my breath coming in short gasps. Panic surged through me, and I turned to see the old man standing behind the front desk, watching me with those tired, emotionless eyes.

"I need to leave," I said, my voice shaky, barely above a whisper. "Let me out. Please."

The old man shook his head slowly, almost sadly. "You can't leave until you've stayed the full nights you paid for," he said, his voice almost apologetic, but there was something cold in his tone, something that made my stomach twist even more.

I felt the walls of the room closing in on me, the heavy silence pressing down, and I wanted to scream. A cold dread settled in my stomach. I realized then that I was trapped. There was no way out until I faced the final night, until I followed every rule perfectly. My eyes darted around the lobby, searching for another exit, a back door, anything that could save me from returning to that cursed room. But there was nothing.

The old man didn't move. He just stood there, staring at me with that hollow gaze. I took a step back, my body trembling, and knew I had no choice. My heart sank as I turned and slowly walked back down the hallway. Every step felt heavier, like I was walking toward my doom. The hallway seemed longer than before, stretching endlessly, the dim lights flickering above me. I could feel tears stinging my eyes, but I blinked them away. I had to do this. I had no choice but to return to Room 7.

On the final night, I knew I had to follow every rule perfectly if I wanted to leave alive. I closed the bathroom door, kept the window shut, put the cup of water on the nightstand, and left a coin on the bedside table. I lay in bed, my eyes wide open, the silence in the room almost unbearable. My body was tense, every muscle tight, as I listened for the first sign of trouble. The air felt thick, as if it was weighing me down, and every sound seemed amplified in the deafening stillness.

At midnight, the knocking started again. It was soft at first, then got louder and more demanding. Each knock seemed to resonate deep in my bones, vibrating through the bedframe. The whispers followed, voices outside the window, growing in number until it sounded like a crowd murmuring just beyond the thin glass. Shadows moved beyond the glass, forming shapes that twisted and writhed. I kept my eyes on the coin, focusing on it as my only connection to reality, trying to block out the chaos around me. The room felt like it was getting darker, the pressure in the air building until I thought I would scream. My chest felt tight, and it was hard to breathe, like the very air was being sucked out of the room.

I felt the mattress dip slightly, as if something had climbed onto the bed. My heart raced, and I clenched my teeth to keep from crying out. I could feel an unnatural coldness spreading from the foot of the bed, moving closer, inch by inch. My entire body was paralyzed with fear, my muscles locked in place as I tried to keep my focus on the coin. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, and I could swear I heard my name being called, mixed in with the voices.

Then, slowly, the darkness began to lift. The whispers got quieter, the knocking stopped, and the shadows faded away. The air felt lighter, and the pressure on my chest slowly began to release. A faint light started to filter through the curtains, and I realized that dawn was breaking.

The sense of relief was overwhelming. I let out a shaky breath and felt tears welling up in my eyes. I had made it. I had survived the final night. My entire body was trembling, but I managed to get out of bed and gather my things. The rules had been followed, and I could feel that whatever haunted Room 7 was letting me go.

I made my way to the front desk, the old man was there, watching me as I approached. He looked tired, but there was a hint of relief in his eyes as well.

"You followed the rules," he said quietly, nodding as I handed him the key.

I nodded back, my voice too shaky to speak. I could barely believe that I was finally leaving. Without another word, I turned and walked out the door, stepping into the early morning light. The fresh air hit my face, and I felt a sense of freedom that I hadn't felt in days.

I got into my car, started the engine, and drove away from the Silver Rest Inn. As I glanced in the rearview mirror, I watched the old motel grow smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared from view. I knew, deep down, that I would never return to that place. Room 7 was still there, waiting for the next person who wouldn't listen to the

2024.12.08 18:19 HerScreams Room 7 Looked like any other motel room...it wasn’t

The drive was supposed to be easy.

I'd been feeling restless for a while, even though my travel blog was doing well. Traveling and writing had become repetitive, and I felt like I was just going through the motions. I missed the thrill of finding new places and the sense of adventure that made me start the blog in the first place. Lately, everything felt forced, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing something important.

I remembered when every trip felt like a real adventure, like the time I found a hidden village in the mountains or met a kind stranger who showed me a secret spot only locals knew about. Those moments used to fill me with excitement, but now everything felt dull. I needed something to remind me why I loved traveling - like when I found that hidden waterfall in Oregon or camped under the stars in the desert. I wanted that feeling of wonder again.

Driving from Chicago to Denver was supposed to help clear my mind.

But as the miles went by, everything looked the same: flat farmland that stretched forever. The monotony of the endless road was almost hypnotic, and I still felt lost and uninspired. It was like I was running away from something but didn't know what, and nothing I found along the way seemed to fill the emptiness.

It felt different, almost like I was meant to stop there. The streets were unusually empty, and the buildings looked old and forgotten, like time had stopped. There was an eerie stillness in the air that made me shiver, like something was watching me from the shadows.

Council Bluffs was on the border between Iowa and Nebraska, next to the Missouri River. It had a simple charm - a gas station, an old diner that looked like it was from the 1950s, and a small church. Something about it made me curious, like there was more beneath the surface waiting to be discovered.

The motel I found was called the Silver Rest Inn.

It was right off the main road and looked old and run-down. The paint was peeling, and the old neon sign flickered as the sun started to set, casting long shadows across the parking lot. It was the kind of place people only used to sleep before moving on, and I figured it would be good enough for three nights.

As I parked my car, I felt the temperature drop suddenly, and I thought I heard a faint creaking sound, like an old door swinging in the wind. It made me uneasy. The air felt heavy, like a storm was coming, and my stomach twisted with worry.

I tried to ignore it and grabbed my bag, heading into the front office.

The room smelled like dust and something metallic that I couldn't quite place. Behind the counter was an old man with tired eyes. He nodded at me and spoke in a rough voice.

"Yeah, for three nights please…" I said, smiling even though I felt a bit uncomfortable.

He hesitated for a moment, then handed me an old key with a wooden tag. "Room 7," he said. He paused, looking serious. "There are a few rules you need to follow."

He nodded and pushed a small, yellowed piece of paper across the counter. The ink was smudged like it had been written a long time ago.

"It's nothing too serious," he said, but I could hear the unease in his voice. "Just things to keep in mind."

I took the note and looked at it. It had five rules:

A shiver ran through me. "Is this some kind of local superstition?" I asked, trying to sound amused, though my voice was shaky.

The old man's smile faded, and he looked at me seriously. "Just follow the rules. Room 7... it's different."

I wanted to ask more, but the way he looked at me made me stop. Instead, I nodded and took the key and the note. "Okay, I'll follow them," I said, trying to sound casual.

The room was at the far end of the motel, and the door looked worn from years of use. I turned the key in the lock, and the door opened with a heavy click. The room was what I expected-a bed with an old floral bedspread, a small wooden table, and a bathroom with a chipped mirror. The air was a bit stale, so I walked over to the window and pulled the curtains aside to let in some fresh air. Outside, everything was quiet, with only the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze.

I looked at the note again, feeling a strange sense of worry. It was just a room, I told myself. I had stayed in plenty of rooms like this. But I couldn't shake the look in the old man's eyes-it was like he was warning me. The air felt heavy, and I could swear I heard a faint rustle, like something moving in the shadows, making my skin prickle.

The first night, I ignored the rules. I left the bathroom door slightly open, even though I felt a shiver telling me I shouldn't. What harm could it cause? I got ready for bed, feeling exhausted from the long drive. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, and as I lay there, I couldn't help but think about the strange rules. The unease lingered, making it hard to fully relax. Eventually, exhaustion took over, and I fell asleep.

I woke up at 3:00 a.m. The room was dark, but something felt wrong. The air was damp, like just before a storm. I looked at the bathroom, and my heart skipped a beat. The door, which I had left partly open, was now wide open. The darkness inside seemed to move, almost like it was alive. My heart started to race, and then I heard it-a deep growl coming from the bathroom, like an animal in pain.

Fear took over, and I forced myself to move. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the floor cold beneath my feet. I crept toward the bathroom, my heart pounding in my ears. The growl stopped as soon as I touched the door, and I quickly pushed it shut, locking it.

I stood there, breathing hard, waiting for any other sound. But the room was silent again, and slowly the damp feeling in the air went away. I climbed back into bed, pulling the covers tightly around me, keeping my eyes on the bathroom door until I finally fell asleep. My dreams were uneasy, filled with fleeting images of shadows moving across the walls and whispering voices I couldn't understand. Every time I thought I was about to make out the words, I would wake up in a sweat, only to find the room quiet and still.

The next morning, I tried to shake off the fear from the night before. Maybe I hadn't closed the door properly, and the strange growl could have just been the wind or old pipes. I didn't want to think too much about it, so I spent the day exploring Council Bluffs. I took pictures of the Union Pacific Railroad Museum, the old Squirrel Cage Jail, and the Missouri River. The town was quiet and had a sort of eerie beauty to it. People were polite but not very friendly, and they seemed to look at me strangely when I mentioned the motel.

"You're staying at the Silver Rest Inn?" the waitress at the diner asked, her smile fading.

"Yeah," I said, trying to act normal. "Why? Is there something I should know?"

She hesitated, then looked around like she wanted to make sure no one else heard. "Just... follow the rules," she said quietly. "People who don't... well, they are never found again."

A shiver ran through me. Something about the way she said it made me feel like I was already in danger, like there was some dark secret everyone in the town knew but wouldn't share with outsiders. That night, back in Room 7, I made sure to follow the first rule. I closed the bathroom door firmly before getting into bed. I looked over the list again, my eyes lingering on the second rule: Do not open the window after 10:00 p.m., even if it gets hot.

The room felt stuffy. The air conditioner rattled, but it wasn't doing much to cool the room. By 11:00 p.m., I was sweating, and my shirt stuck to my skin. I knew what the note said, but no matter how hard I tried, I felt like I couldn't breathe, like something was very wrong with my throat. I walked over to the window and opened it, letting the cool night air in.

The breeze felt amazing, and I sighed with relief. But then I heard it : footsteps on the gravel outside the door. Slow and deliberate. My whole body tensed up. The footsteps got louder, and then there was a soft knock at the door. Then another, louder this time, like whoever it was wanted to be let in. My heart pounded as I crept towards the door, my eyes on the peephole.

I looked through the peephole, but there was nothing...just darkness. The knocking continued, getting louder and louder, echoing in the small room. I backed away, my gaze darting to the open window. The curtains moved with the breeze, and I rushed over to close the window. As soon as it was shut, the knocking stopped. The silence that followed was almost scarier than the knocking.

My hands were shaking, and I stood there, trying to make sense of it. There had been no one there, but the knocking and footsteps were real. I rushed to close the window, but it was like something invisible was pushing against it, making it almost impossible to move. I struggled with all my strength, my breath coming in ragged gasps, until finally, with a surge of effort, I managed to close it. Suddenly, the bathroom door burst open, and what seemed like an obscure creature on four legs lunged out. It looked like a twisted, shadowy animal-its body was long and skeletal, with jagged, bony legs that ended in sharp, claw-like points. Its face was featureless, a black void that seemed to absorb the light around it. My heart stopped as it came at me, and I closed my eyes, bracing for impact. But then... nothing. The sudden silence was deafening, as if the entire room had been swallowed by emptiness. I felt a strange, hollow stillness, like the world itself had paused. When I opened my eyes, the creature was gone, as if it had never been there. I collapsed onto the bed, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. I felt like I was losing my mind. I picked up the note again, and the words seemed even more important now. These weren't just silly superstitions-they were rules meant to keep me safe from forces beyond my comprehension.

That night, sleep did not come easily. Every small sound seemed amplified-the creak of the bed, the rustle of the curtains. I kept my eyes fixed on the bathroom door, half-expecting it to swing open again. When I finally drifted off, my dreams were filled with dark figures standing at the edge of my bed, their faces hidden, their whispers growing louder until I woke up, drenched in sweat.

By the third night, I was terrified. I knew there was something in Room 7, something dangerous. I had to follow every rule exactly. I closed the bathroom door, kept the window shut, and made sure to listen carefully before answering any knocks. But there was one rule I had forgotten-the cup of water on the nightstand.

It was past midnight when I remembered. My heart started to pound as I rushed to fill a cup of water from the bathroom sink and set it on the nightstand. I lay back down, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm myself. The room felt different, like the walls were pressing in on me, the shadows growing darker and more defined. I could feel the weight of something unseen watching me.

When I finally fell asleep, my dreams were dark and unsettling. I was back in the motel room, but everything felt wrong. The walls seemed to move, expanding and contracting like they were breathing, and shadows gathered in the corners, whispering. Figures stood at the edge of the bed, hidden by darkness. I tried to move, but I felt like something was holding me down, a heavy pressure on my chest that made it hard to breathe.

I woke up suddenly, my heart racing. The room was completely dark, and as my eyes adjusted, I saw something that made my blood run cold-long, slender handprints on the outside of the window. A chill went through me, and then I felt it-a cold breath on the back of my neck.

I turned quickly, but there was nothing there. The room was empty, but I felt like I was being watched. I looked at the cup of water on the nightstand-it was empty. My stomach sank. I must have drunk it in my sleep, breaking another rule.

The growl returned, deep and echoing around the room. The shadows gathered again, twisting and shifting into shapes that almost looked like people. My breath caught in my throat, and I shut my eyes, trying to make it all go away. I couldn't help but think, 'This can't be real. Please, let it stop. I can't take this anymore.' The fear was overwhelming, and I felt a desperation I had never known before. The growling got louder, coming from everywhere at once, a horrible, guttural sound that seemed to seep into my very bones.

When I opened my eyes, the figures were there, surrounding the bed, their faces hidden, their dark hands reaching towards me. They were closer now, and I could see the outlines of their forms, the way their fingers seemed to stretch and curl unnaturally.

The figures paused, their hands hovering over me. The shadows seemed to ripple, as if they were deciding what to do. Then, slowly, they began to fade away, dissolving into the darkness. The growling got quieter until the room was silent again. The air was still and cold, and I lay there, shaking, tears in my eyes. I knew I couldn't stay another night-if I did, I was certain that whatever lurked in the shadows would consume me entirely. The feeling of dread was overwhelming, and every instinct in my body screamed that I was in immediate danger, that the next encounter would be my last.

I knew I couldn't stay any longer. After the encounter with the creature, my instinct was to run. I grabbed my things and rushed downstairs, my heart pounding, every step echoing in the silence of the empty motel. I needed to leave-right now. My hands were trembling, and the fear clawed at my chest, making it hard to think clearly.

But when I reached the exit, the door wouldn't budge. I twisted the handle again and again, my panic growing with each failed attempt. It was locked, as if it hadn't been used in years. The windows were boarded up, and the dim light filtering through made everything look even more hopeless. I pounded on the door, my breath coming in short gasps. Panic surged through me, and I turned to see the old man standing behind the front desk, watching me with those tired, emotionless eyes.

"I need to leave," I said, my voice shaky, barely above a whisper. "Let me out. Please."

The old man shook his head slowly, almost sadly. "You can't leave until you've stayed the full nights you paid for," he said, his voice almost apologetic, but there was something cold in his tone, something that made my stomach twist even more.

I felt the walls of the room closing in on me, the heavy silence pressing down, and I wanted to scream. A cold dread settled in my stomach. I realized then that I was trapped. There was no way out until I faced the final night, until I followed every rule perfectly. My eyes darted around the lobby, searching for another exit, a back door, anything that could save me from returning to that cursed room. But there was nothing.

The old man didn't move. He just stood there, staring at me with that hollow gaze. I took a step back, my body trembling, and knew I had no choice. My heart sank as I turned and slowly walked back down the hallway. Every step felt heavier, like I was walking toward my doom. The hallway seemed longer than before, stretching endlessly, the dim lights flickering above me. I could feel tears stinging my eyes, but I blinked them away. I had to do this. I had no choice but to return to Room 7.

On the final night, I knew I had to follow every rule perfectly if I wanted to leave alive. I closed the bathroom door, kept the window shut, put the cup of water on the nightstand, and left a coin on the bedside table. I lay in bed, my eyes wide open, the silence in the room almost unbearable. My body was tense, every muscle tight, as I listened for the first sign of trouble. The air felt thick, as if it was weighing me down, and every sound seemed amplified in the deafening stillness.

At midnight, the knocking started again. It was soft at first, then got louder and more demanding. Each knock seemed to resonate deep in my bones, vibrating through the bedframe. The whispers followed, voices outside the window, growing in number until it sounded like a crowd murmuring just beyond the thin glass. Shadows moved beyond the glass, forming shapes that twisted and writhed. I kept my eyes on the coin, focusing on it as my only connection to reality, trying to block out the chaos around me. The room felt like it was getting darker, the pressure in the air building until I thought I would scream. My chest felt tight, and it was hard to breathe, like the very air was being sucked out of the room.

I felt the mattress dip slightly, as if something had climbed onto the bed. My heart raced, and I clenched my teeth to keep from crying out. I could feel an unnatural coldness spreading from the foot of the bed, moving closer, inch by inch. My entire body was paralyzed with fear, my muscles locked in place as I tried to keep my focus on the coin. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, and I could swear I heard my name being called, mixed in with the voices.

Then, slowly, the darkness began to lift. The whispers got quieter, the knocking stopped, and the shadows faded away. The air felt lighter, and the pressure on my chest slowly began to release. A faint light started to filter through the curtains, and I realized that dawn was breaking.

The sense of relief was overwhelming. I let out a shaky breath and felt tears welling up in my eyes. I had made it. I had survived the final night. My entire body was trembling, but I managed to get out of bed and gather my things. The rules had been followed, and I could feel that whatever haunted Room 7 was letting me go.

I made my way to the front desk, the old man was there, watching me as I approached. He looked tired, but there was a hint of relief in his eyes as well.

"You followed the rules," he said quietly, nodding as I handed him the key.

I nodded back, my voice too shaky to speak. I could barely believe that I was finally leaving. Without another word, I turned and walked out the door, stepping into the early morning light. The fresh air hit my face, and I felt a sense of freedom that I hadn't felt in days.

I got into my car, started the engine, and drove away from the Silver Rest Inn. As I glanced in the rearview mirror, I watched the old motel grow smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared from view. I knew, deep down, that I would never return to that place. Room 7 was still there, waiting for the next person who wouldn't listen to the

2024.12.08 18:18 HerScreams Room 7 Looked like any other motel room...it wasn’t

The drive was supposed to be easy.

I'd been feeling restless for a while, even though my travel blog was doing well. Traveling and writing had become repetitive, and I felt like I was just going through the motions. I missed the thrill of finding new places and the sense of adventure that made me start the blog in the first place. Lately, everything felt forced, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing something important.

I remembered when every trip felt like a real adventure, like the time I found a hidden village in the mountains or met a kind stranger who showed me a secret spot only locals knew about. Those moments used to fill me with excitement, but now everything felt dull. I needed something to remind me why I loved traveling - like when I found that hidden waterfall in Oregon or camped under the stars in the desert. I wanted that feeling of wonder again.

Driving from Chicago to Denver was supposed to help clear my mind.

But as the miles went by, everything looked the same: flat farmland that stretched forever. The monotony of the endless road was almost hypnotic, and I still felt lost and uninspired. It was like I was running away from something but didn't know what, and nothing I found along the way seemed to fill the emptiness.

It felt different, almost like I was meant to stop there. The streets were unusually empty, and the buildings looked old and forgotten, like time had stopped. There was an eerie stillness in the air that made me shiver, like something was watching me from the shadows.

Council Bluffs was on the border between Iowa and Nebraska, next to the Missouri River. It had a simple charm - a gas station, an old diner that looked like it was from the 1950s, and a small church. Something about it made me curious, like there was more beneath the surface waiting to be discovered.

The motel I found was called the Silver Rest Inn.

It was right off the main road and looked old and run-down. The paint was peeling, and the old neon sign flickered as the sun started to set, casting long shadows across the parking lot. It was the kind of place people only used to sleep before moving on, and I figured it would be good enough for three nights.

As I parked my car, I felt the temperature drop suddenly, and I thought I heard a faint creaking sound, like an old door swinging in the wind. It made me uneasy. The air felt heavy, like a storm was coming, and my stomach twisted with worry.

I tried to ignore it and grabbed my bag, heading into the front office.

The room smelled like dust and something metallic that I couldn't quite place. Behind the counter was an old man with tired eyes. He nodded at me and spoke in a rough voice.

"Yeah, for three nights please…" I said, smiling even though I felt a bit uncomfortable.

He hesitated for a moment, then handed me an old key with a wooden tag. "Room 7," he said. He paused, looking serious. "There are a few rules you need to follow."

He nodded and pushed a small, yellowed piece of paper across the counter. The ink was smudged like it had been written a long time ago.

"It's nothing too serious," he said, but I could hear the unease in his voice. "Just things to keep in mind."

I took the note and looked at it. It had five rules:

A shiver ran through me. "Is this some kind of local superstition?" I asked, trying to sound amused, though my voice was shaky.

The old man's smile faded, and he looked at me seriously. "Just follow the rules. Room 7... it's different."

I wanted to ask more, but the way he looked at me made me stop. Instead, I nodded and took the key and the note. "Okay, I'll follow them," I said, trying to sound casual.

The room was at the far end of the motel, and the door looked worn from years of use. I turned the key in the lock, and the door opened with a heavy click. The room was what I expected-a bed with an old floral bedspread, a small wooden table, and a bathroom with a chipped mirror. The air was a bit stale, so I walked over to the window and pulled the curtains aside to let in some fresh air. Outside, everything was quiet, with only the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze.

I looked at the note again, feeling a strange sense of worry. It was just a room, I told myself. I had stayed in plenty of rooms like this. But I couldn't shake the look in the old man's eyes-it was like he was warning me. The air felt heavy, and I could swear I heard a faint rustle, like something moving in the shadows, making my skin prickle.

The first night, I ignored the rules. I left the bathroom door slightly open, even though I felt a shiver telling me I shouldn't. What harm could it cause? I got ready for bed, feeling exhausted from the long drive. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, and as I lay there, I couldn't help but think about the strange rules. The unease lingered, making it hard to fully relax. Eventually, exhaustion took over, and I fell asleep.

I woke up at 3:00 a.m. The room was dark, but something felt wrong. The air was damp, like just before a storm. I looked at the bathroom, and my heart skipped a beat. The door, which I had left partly open, was now wide open. The darkness inside seemed to move, almost like it was alive. My heart started to race, and then I heard it-a deep growl coming from the bathroom, like an animal in pain.

Fear took over, and I forced myself to move. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the floor cold beneath my feet. I crept toward the bathroom, my heart pounding in my ears. The growl stopped as soon as I touched the door, and I quickly pushed it shut, locking it.

I stood there, breathing hard, waiting for any other sound. But the room was silent again, and slowly the damp feeling in the air went away. I climbed back into bed, pulling the covers tightly around me, keeping my eyes on the bathroom door until I finally fell asleep. My dreams were uneasy, filled with fleeting images of shadows moving across the walls and whispering voices I couldn't understand. Every time I thought I was about to make out the words, I would wake up in a sweat, only to find the room quiet and still.

The next morning, I tried to shake off the fear from the night before. Maybe I hadn't closed the door properly, and the strange growl could have just been the wind or old pipes. I didn't want to think too much about it, so I spent the day exploring Council Bluffs. I took pictures of the Union Pacific Railroad Museum, the old Squirrel Cage Jail, and the Missouri River. The town was quiet and had a sort of eerie beauty to it. People were polite but not very friendly, and they seemed to look at me strangely when I mentioned the motel.

"You're staying at the Silver Rest Inn?" the waitress at the diner asked, her smile fading.

"Yeah," I said, trying to act normal. "Why? Is there something I should know?"

She hesitated, then looked around like she wanted to make sure no one else heard. "Just... follow the rules," she said quietly. "People who don't... well, they are never found again."

A shiver ran through me. Something about the way she said it made me feel like I was already in danger, like there was some dark secret everyone in the town knew but wouldn't share with outsiders. That night, back in Room 7, I made sure to follow the first rule. I closed the bathroom door firmly before getting into bed. I looked over the list again, my eyes lingering on the second rule: Do not open the window after 10:00 p.m., even if it gets hot.

The room felt stuffy. The air conditioner rattled, but it wasn't doing much to cool the room. By 11:00 p.m., I was sweating, and my shirt stuck to my skin. I knew what the note said, but no matter how hard I tried, I felt like I couldn't breathe, like something was very wrong with my throat. I walked over to the window and opened it, letting the cool night air in.

The breeze felt amazing, and I sighed with relief. But then I heard it : footsteps on the gravel outside the door. Slow and deliberate. My whole body tensed up. The footsteps got louder, and then there was a soft knock at the door. Then another, louder this time, like whoever it was wanted to be let in. My heart pounded as I crept towards the door, my eyes on the peephole.

I looked through the peephole, but there was nothing...just darkness. The knocking continued, getting louder and louder, echoing in the small room. I backed away, my gaze darting to the open window. The curtains moved with the breeze, and I rushed over to close the window. As soon as it was shut, the knocking stopped. The silence that followed was almost scarier than the knocking.

My hands were shaking, and I stood there, trying to make sense of it. There had been no one there, but the knocking and footsteps were real. I rushed to close the window, but it was like something invisible was pushing against it, making it almost impossible to move. I struggled with all my strength, my breath coming in ragged gasps, until finally, with a surge of effort, I managed to close it. Suddenly, the bathroom door burst open, and what seemed like an obscure creature on four legs lunged out. It looked like a twisted, shadowy animal-its body was long and skeletal, with jagged, bony legs that ended in sharp, claw-like points. Its face was featureless, a black void that seemed to absorb the light around it. My heart stopped as it came at me, and I closed my eyes, bracing for impact. But then... nothing. The sudden silence was deafening, as if the entire room had been swallowed by emptiness. I felt a strange, hollow stillness, like the world itself had paused. When I opened my eyes, the creature was gone, as if it had never been there. I collapsed onto the bed, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. I felt like I was losing my mind. I picked up the note again, and the words seemed even more important now. These weren't just silly superstitions-they were rules meant to keep me safe from forces beyond my comprehension.

That night, sleep did not come easily. Every small sound seemed amplified-the creak of the bed, the rustle of the curtains. I kept my eyes fixed on the bathroom door, half-expecting it to swing open again. When I finally drifted off, my dreams were filled with dark figures standing at the edge of my bed, their faces hidden, their whispers growing louder until I woke up, drenched in sweat.

By the third night, I was terrified. I knew there was something in Room 7, something dangerous. I had to follow every rule exactly. I closed the bathroom door, kept the window shut, and made sure to listen carefully before answering any knocks. But there was one rule I had forgotten-the cup of water on the nightstand.

It was past midnight when I remembered. My heart started to pound as I rushed to fill a cup of water from the bathroom sink and set it on the nightstand. I lay back down, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm myself. The room felt different, like the walls were pressing in on me, the shadows growing darker and more defined. I could feel the weight of something unseen watching me.

When I finally fell asleep, my dreams were dark and unsettling. I was back in the motel room, but everything felt wrong. The walls seemed to move, expanding and contracting like they were breathing, and shadows gathered in the corners, whispering. Figures stood at the edge of the bed, hidden by darkness. I tried to move, but I felt like something was holding me down, a heavy pressure on my chest that made it hard to breathe.

I woke up suddenly, my heart racing. The room was completely dark, and as my eyes adjusted, I saw something that made my blood run cold-long, slender handprints on the outside of the window. A chill went through me, and then I felt it-a cold breath on the back of my neck.

I turned quickly, but there was nothing there. The room was empty, but I felt like I was being watched. I looked at the cup of water on the nightstand-it was empty. My stomach sank. I must have drunk it in my sleep, breaking another rule.

The growl returned, deep and echoing around the room. The shadows gathered again, twisting and shifting into shapes that almost looked like people. My breath caught in my throat, and I shut my eyes, trying to make it all go away. I couldn't help but think, 'This can't be real. Please, let it stop. I can't take this anymore.' The fear was overwhelming, and I felt a desperation I had never known before. The growling got louder, coming from everywhere at once, a horrible, guttural sound that seemed to seep into my very bones.

When I opened my eyes, the figures were there, surrounding the bed, their faces hidden, their dark hands reaching towards me. They were closer now, and I could see the outlines of their forms, the way their fingers seemed to stretch and curl unnaturally.

The figures paused, their hands hovering over me. The shadows seemed to ripple, as if they were deciding what to do. Then, slowly, they began to fade away, dissolving into the darkness. The growling got quieter until the room was silent again. The air was still and cold, and I lay there, shaking, tears in my eyes. I knew I couldn't stay another night-if I did, I was certain that whatever lurked in the shadows would consume me entirely. The feeling of dread was overwhelming, and every instinct in my body screamed that I was in immediate danger, that the next encounter would be my last.

I knew I couldn't stay any longer. After the encounter with the creature, my instinct was to run. I grabbed my things and rushed downstairs, my heart pounding, every step echoing in the silence of the empty motel. I needed to leave-right now. My hands were trembling, and the fear clawed at my chest, making it hard to think clearly.

But when I reached the exit, the door wouldn't budge. I twisted the handle again and again, my panic growing with each failed attempt. It was locked, as if it hadn't been used in years. The windows were boarded up, and the dim light filtering through made everything look even more hopeless. I pounded on the door, my breath coming in short gasps. Panic surged through me, and I turned to see the old man standing behind the front desk, watching me with those tired, emotionless eyes.

"I need to leave," I said, my voice shaky, barely above a whisper. "Let me out. Please."

The old man shook his head slowly, almost sadly. "You can't leave until you've stayed the full nights you paid for," he said, his voice almost apologetic, but there was something cold in his tone, something that made my stomach twist even more.

I felt the walls of the room closing in on me, the heavy silence pressing down, and I wanted to scream. A cold dread settled in my stomach. I realized then that I was trapped. There was no way out until I faced the final night, until I followed every rule perfectly. My eyes darted around the lobby, searching for another exit, a back door, anything that could save me from returning to that cursed room. But there was nothing.

The old man didn't move. He just stood there, staring at me with that hollow gaze. I took a step back, my body trembling, and knew I had no choice. My heart sank as I turned and slowly walked back down the hallway. Every step felt heavier, like I was walking toward my doom. The hallway seemed longer than before, stretching endlessly, the dim lights flickering above me. I could feel tears stinging my eyes, but I blinked them away. I had to do this. I had no choice but to return to Room 7.

On the final night, I knew I had to follow every rule perfectly if I wanted to leave alive. I closed the bathroom door, kept the window shut, put the cup of water on the nightstand, and left a coin on the bedside table. I lay in bed, my eyes wide open, the silence in the room almost unbearable. My body was tense, every muscle tight, as I listened for the first sign of trouble. The air felt thick, as if it was weighing me down, and every sound seemed amplified in the deafening stillness.

At midnight, the knocking started again. It was soft at first, then got louder and more demanding. Each knock seemed to resonate deep in my bones, vibrating through the bedframe. The whispers followed, voices outside the window, growing in number until it sounded like a crowd murmuring just beyond the thin glass. Shadows moved beyond the glass, forming shapes that twisted and writhed. I kept my eyes on the coin, focusing on it as my only connection to reality, trying to block out the chaos around me. The room felt like it was getting darker, the pressure in the air building until I thought I would scream. My chest felt tight, and it was hard to breathe, like the very air was being sucked out of the room.

I felt the mattress dip slightly, as if something had climbed onto the bed. My heart raced, and I clenched my teeth to keep from crying out. I could feel an unnatural coldness spreading from the foot of the bed, moving closer, inch by inch. My entire body was paralyzed with fear, my muscles locked in place as I tried to keep my focus on the coin. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, and I could swear I heard my name being called, mixed in with the voices.

Then, slowly, the darkness began to lift. The whispers got quieter, the knocking stopped, and the shadows faded away. The air felt lighter, and the pressure on my chest slowly began to release. A faint light started to filter through the curtains, and I realized that dawn was breaking.

The sense of relief was overwhelming. I let out a shaky breath and felt tears welling up in my eyes. I had made it. I had survived the final night. My entire body was trembling, but I managed to get out of bed and gather my things. The rules had been followed, and I could feel that whatever haunted Room 7 was letting me go.

I made my way to the front desk, the old man was there, watching me as I approached. He looked tired, but there was a hint of relief in his eyes as well.

"You followed the rules," he said quietly, nodding as I handed him the key.

I nodded back, my voice too shaky to speak. I could barely believe that I was finally leaving. Without another word, I turned and walked out the door, stepping into the early morning light. The fresh air hit my face, and I felt a sense of freedom that I hadn't felt in days.

I got into my car, started the engine, and drove away from the Silver Rest Inn. As I glanced in the rearview mirror, I watched the old motel grow smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared from view. I knew, deep down, that I would never return to that place. Room 7 was still there, waiting for the next person who wouldn't listen to the

2024.12.08 18:16 HerScreams Room 7 Looked like any other motel room...it wasn’t

The drive was supposed to be easy.

I'd been feeling restless for a while, even though my travel blog was doing well. Traveling and writing had become repetitive, and I felt like I was just going through the motions. I missed the thrill of finding new places and the sense of adventure that made me start the blog in the first place. Lately, everything felt forced, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing something important.

I remembered when every trip felt like a real adventure, like the time I found a hidden village in the mountains or met a kind stranger who showed me a secret spot only locals knew about. Those moments used to fill me with excitement, but now everything felt dull. I needed something to remind me why I loved traveling - like when I found that hidden waterfall in Oregon or camped under the stars in the desert. I wanted that feeling of wonder again.

Driving from Chicago to Denver was supposed to help clear my mind.

But as the miles went by, everything looked the same: flat farmland that stretched forever. The monotony of the endless road was almost hypnotic, and I still felt lost and uninspired. It was like I was running away from something but didn't know what, and nothing I found along the way seemed to fill the emptiness.

It felt different, almost like I was meant to stop there. The streets were unusually empty, and the buildings looked old and forgotten, like time had stopped. There was an eerie stillness in the air that made me shiver, like something was watching me from the shadows.

Council Bluffs was on the border between Iowa and Nebraska, next to the Missouri River. It had a simple charm - a gas station, an old diner that looked like it was from the 1950s, and a small church. Something about it made me curious, like there was more beneath the surface waiting to be discovered.

The motel I found was called the Silver Rest Inn.

It was right off the main road and looked old and run-down. The paint was peeling, and the old neon sign flickered as the sun started to set, casting long shadows across the parking lot. It was the kind of place people only used to sleep before moving on, and I figured it would be good enough for three nights.

As I parked my car, I felt the temperature drop suddenly, and I thought I heard a faint creaking sound, like an old door swinging in the wind. It made me uneasy. The air felt heavy, like a storm was coming, and my stomach twisted with worry.

I tried to ignore it and grabbed my bag, heading into the front office.

The room smelled like dust and something metallic that I couldn't quite place. Behind the counter was an old man with tired eyes. He nodded at me and spoke in a rough voice.

"Yeah, for three nights please…" I said, smiling even though I felt a bit uncomfortable.

He hesitated for a moment, then handed me an old key with a wooden tag. "Room 7," he said. He paused, looking serious. "There are a few rules you need to follow."

He nodded and pushed a small, yellowed piece of paper across the counter. The ink was smudged like it had been written a long time ago.

"It's nothing too serious," he said, but I could hear the unease in his voice. "Just things to keep in mind."

I took the note and looked at it. It had five rules:

A shiver ran through me. "Is this some kind of local superstition?" I asked, trying to sound amused, though my voice was shaky.

The old man's smile faded, and he looked at me seriously. "Just follow the rules. Room 7... it's different."

I wanted to ask more, but the way he looked at me made me stop. Instead, I nodded and took the key and the note. "Okay, I'll follow them," I said, trying to sound casual.

The room was at the far end of the motel, and the door looked worn from years of use. I turned the key in the lock, and the door opened with a heavy click. The room was what I expected-a bed with an old floral bedspread, a small wooden table, and a bathroom with a chipped mirror. The air was a bit stale, so I walked over to the window and pulled the curtains aside to let in some fresh air. Outside, everything was quiet, with only the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze.

I looked at the note again, feeling a strange sense of worry. It was just a room, I told myself. I had stayed in plenty of rooms like this. But I couldn't shake the look in the old man's eyes-it was like he was warning me. The air felt heavy, and I could swear I heard a faint rustle, like something moving in the shadows, making my skin prickle.

The first night, I ignored the rules. I left the bathroom door slightly open, even though I felt a shiver telling me I shouldn't. What harm could it cause? I got ready for bed, feeling exhausted from the long drive. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, and as I lay there, I couldn't help but think about the strange rules. The unease lingered, making it hard to fully relax. Eventually, exhaustion took over, and I fell asleep.

I woke up at 3:00 a.m. The room was dark, but something felt wrong. The air was damp, like just before a storm. I looked at the bathroom, and my heart skipped a beat. The door, which I had left partly open, was now wide open. The darkness inside seemed to move, almost like it was alive. My heart started to race, and then I heard it-a deep growl coming from the bathroom, like an animal in pain.

Fear took over, and I forced myself to move. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the floor cold beneath my feet. I crept toward the bathroom, my heart pounding in my ears. The growl stopped as soon as I touched the door, and I quickly pushed it shut, locking it.

I stood there, breathing hard, waiting for any other sound. But the room was silent again, and slowly the damp feeling in the air went away. I climbed back into bed, pulling the covers tightly around me, keeping my eyes on the bathroom door until I finally fell asleep. My dreams were uneasy, filled with fleeting images of shadows moving across the walls and whispering voices I couldn't understand. Every time I thought I was about to make out the words, I would wake up in a sweat, only to find the room quiet and still.

The next morning, I tried to shake off the fear from the night before. Maybe I hadn't closed the door properly, and the strange growl could have just been the wind or old pipes. I didn't want to think too much about it, so I spent the day exploring Council Bluffs. I took pictures of the Union Pacific Railroad Museum, the old Squirrel Cage Jail, and the Missouri River. The town was quiet and had a sort of eerie beauty to it. People were polite but not very friendly, and they seemed to look at me strangely when I mentioned the motel.

"You're staying at the Silver Rest Inn?" the waitress at the diner asked, her smile fading.

"Yeah," I said, trying to act normal. "Why? Is there something I should know?"

She hesitated, then looked around like she wanted to make sure no one else heard. "Just... follow the rules," she said quietly. "People who don't... well, they are never found again."

A shiver ran through me. Something about the way she said it made me feel like I was already in danger, like there was some dark secret everyone in the town knew but wouldn't share with outsiders. That night, back in Room 7, I made sure to follow the first rule. I closed the bathroom door firmly before getting into bed. I looked over the list again, my eyes lingering on the second rule: Do not open the window after 10:00 p.m., even if it gets hot.

The room felt stuffy. The air conditioner rattled, but it wasn't doing much to cool the room. By 11:00 p.m., I was sweating, and my shirt stuck to my skin. I knew what the note said, but no matter how hard I tried, I felt like I couldn't breathe, like something was very wrong with my throat. I walked over to the window and opened it, letting the cool night air in.

The breeze felt amazing, and I sighed with relief. But then I heard it : footsteps on the gravel outside the door. Slow and deliberate. My whole body tensed up. The footsteps got louder, and then there was a soft knock at the door. Then another, louder this time, like whoever it was wanted to be let in. My heart pounded as I crept towards the door, my eyes on the peephole.

I looked through the peephole, but there was nothing...just darkness. The knocking continued, getting louder and louder, echoing in the small room. I backed away, my gaze darting to the open window. The curtains moved with the breeze, and I rushed over to close the window. As soon as it was shut, the knocking stopped. The silence that followed was almost scarier than the knocking.

My hands were shaking, and I stood there, trying to make sense of it. There had been no one there, but the knocking and footsteps were real. I rushed to close the window, but it was like something invisible was pushing against it, making it almost impossible to move. I struggled with all my strength, my breath coming in ragged gasps, until finally, with a surge of effort, I managed to close it. Suddenly, the bathroom door burst open, and what seemed like an obscure creature on four legs lunged out. It looked like a twisted, shadowy animal-its body was long and skeletal, with jagged, bony legs that ended in sharp, claw-like points. Its face was featureless, a black void that seemed to absorb the light around it. My heart stopped as it came at me, and I closed my eyes, bracing for impact. But then... nothing. The sudden silence was deafening, as if the entire room had been swallowed by emptiness. I felt a strange, hollow stillness, like the world itself had paused. When I opened my eyes, the creature was gone, as if it had never been there. I collapsed onto the bed, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. I felt like I was losing my mind. I picked up the note again, and the words seemed even more important now. These weren't just silly superstitions-they were rules meant to keep me safe from forces beyond my comprehension.

That night, sleep did not come easily. Every small sound seemed amplified-the creak of the bed, the rustle of the curtains. I kept my eyes fixed on the bathroom door, half-expecting it to swing open again. When I finally drifted off, my dreams were filled with dark figures standing at the edge of my bed, their faces hidden, their whispers growing louder until I woke up, drenched in sweat.

By the third night, I was terrified. I knew there was something in Room 7, something dangerous. I had to follow every rule exactly. I closed the bathroom door, kept the window shut, and made sure to listen carefully before answering any knocks. But there was one rule I had forgotten-the cup of water on the nightstand.

It was past midnight when I remembered. My heart started to pound as I rushed to fill a cup of water from the bathroom sink and set it on the nightstand. I lay back down, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm myself. The room felt different, like the walls were pressing in on me, the shadows growing darker and more defined. I could feel the weight of something unseen watching me.

When I finally fell asleep, my dreams were dark and unsettling. I was back in the motel room, but everything felt wrong. The walls seemed to move, expanding and contracting like they were breathing, and shadows gathered in the corners, whispering. Figures stood at the edge of the bed, hidden by darkness. I tried to move, but I felt like something was holding me down, a heavy pressure on my chest that made it hard to breathe.

I woke up suddenly, my heart racing. The room was completely dark, and as my eyes adjusted, I saw something that made my blood run cold-long, slender handprints on the outside of the window. A chill went through me, and then I felt it-a cold breath on the back of my neck.

I turned quickly, but there was nothing there. The room was empty, but I felt like I was being watched. I looked at the cup of water on the nightstand-it was empty. My stomach sank. I must have drunk it in my sleep, breaking another rule.

The growl returned, deep and echoing around the room. The shadows gathered again, twisting and shifting into shapes that almost looked like people. My breath caught in my throat, and I shut my eyes, trying to make it all go away. I couldn't help but think, 'This can't be real. Please, let it stop. I can't take this anymore.' The fear was overwhelming, and I felt a desperation I had never known before. The growling got louder, coming from everywhere at once, a horrible, guttural sound that seemed to seep into my very bones.

When I opened my eyes, the figures were there, surrounding the bed, their faces hidden, their dark hands reaching towards me. They were closer now, and I could see the outlines of their forms, the way their fingers seemed to stretch and curl unnaturally.

The figures paused, their hands hovering over me. The shadows seemed to ripple, as if they were deciding what to do. Then, slowly, they began to fade away, dissolving into the darkness. The growling got quieter until the room was silent again. The air was still and cold, and I lay there, shaking, tears in my eyes. I knew I couldn't stay another night-if I did, I was certain that whatever lurked in the shadows would consume me entirely. The feeling of dread was overwhelming, and every instinct in my body screamed that I was in immediate danger, that the next encounter would be my last.

I knew I couldn't stay any longer. After the encounter with the creature, my instinct was to run. I grabbed my things and rushed downstairs, my heart pounding, every step echoing in the silence of the empty motel. I needed to leave-right now. My hands were trembling, and the fear clawed at my chest, making it hard to think clearly.

But when I reached the exit, the door wouldn't budge. I twisted the handle again and again, my panic growing with each failed attempt. It was locked, as if it hadn't been used in years. The windows were boarded up, and the dim light filtering through made everything look even more hopeless. I pounded on the door, my breath coming in short gasps. Panic surged through me, and I turned to see the old man standing behind the front desk, watching me with those tired, emotionless eyes.

"I need to leave," I said, my voice shaky, barely above a whisper. "Let me out. Please."

The old man shook his head slowly, almost sadly. "You can't leave until you've stayed the full nights you paid for," he said, his voice almost apologetic, but there was something cold in his tone, something that made my stomach twist even more.

I felt the walls of the room closing in on me, the heavy silence pressing down, and I wanted to scream. A cold dread settled in my stomach. I realized then that I was trapped. There was no way out until I faced the final night, until I followed every rule perfectly. My eyes darted around the lobby, searching for another exit, a back door, anything that could save me from returning to that cursed room. But there was nothing.

The old man didn't move. He just stood there, staring at me with that hollow gaze. I took a step back, my body trembling, and knew I had no choice. My heart sank as I turned and slowly walked back down the hallway. Every step felt heavier, like I was walking toward my doom. The hallway seemed longer than before, stretching endlessly, the dim lights flickering above me. I could feel tears stinging my eyes, but I blinked them away. I had to do this. I had no choice but to return to Room 7.

On the final night, I knew I had to follow every rule perfectly if I wanted to leave alive. I closed the bathroom door, kept the window shut, put the cup of water on the nightstand, and left a coin on the bedside table. I lay in bed, my eyes wide open, the silence in the room almost unbearable. My body was tense, every muscle tight, as I listened for the first sign of trouble. The air felt thick, as if it was weighing me down, and every sound seemed amplified in the deafening stillness.

At midnight, the knocking started again. It was soft at first, then got louder and more demanding. Each knock seemed to resonate deep in my bones, vibrating through the bedframe. The whispers followed, voices outside the window, growing in number until it sounded like a crowd murmuring just beyond the thin glass. Shadows moved beyond the glass, forming shapes that twisted and writhed. I kept my eyes on the coin, focusing on it as my only connection to reality, trying to block out the chaos around me. The room felt like it was getting darker, the pressure in the air building until I thought I would scream. My chest felt tight, and it was hard to breathe, like the very air was being sucked out of the room.

I felt the mattress dip slightly, as if something had climbed onto the bed. My heart raced, and I clenched my teeth to keep from crying out. I could feel an unnatural coldness spreading from the foot of the bed, moving closer, inch by inch. My entire body was paralyzed with fear, my muscles locked in place as I tried to keep my focus on the coin. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, and I could swear I heard my name being called, mixed in with the voices.

Then, slowly, the darkness began to lift. The whispers got quieter, the knocking stopped, and the shadows faded away. The air felt lighter, and the pressure on my chest slowly began to release. A faint light started to filter through the curtains, and I realized that dawn was breaking.

The sense of relief was overwhelming. I let out a shaky breath and felt tears welling up in my eyes. I had made it. I had survived the final night. My entire body was trembling, but I managed to get out of bed and gather my things. The rules had been followed, and I could feel that whatever haunted Room 7 was letting me go.

I made my way to the front desk, the old man was there, watching me as I approached. He looked tired, but there was a hint of relief in his eyes as well.

"You followed the rules," he said quietly, nodding as I handed him the key.

I nodded back, my voice too shaky to speak. I could barely believe that I was finally leaving. Without another word, I turned and walked out the door, stepping into the early morning light. The fresh air hit my face, and I felt a sense of freedom that I hadn't felt in days.

I got into my car, started the engine, and drove away from the Silver Rest Inn. As I glanced in the rearview mirror, I watched the old motel grow smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared from view. I knew, deep down, that I would never return to that place. Room 7 was still there, waiting for the next person who wouldn't listen to the

2024.12.08 18:15 HerScreams The room from Silver Rest Inn

The drive was supposed to be easy.

I'd been feeling restless for a while, even though my travel blog was doing well. Traveling and writing had become repetitive, and I felt like I was just going through the motions. I missed the thrill of finding new places and the sense of adventure that made me start the blog in the first place. Lately, everything felt forced, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing something important.

I remembered when every trip felt like a real adventure, like the time I found a hidden village in the mountains or met a kind stranger who showed me a secret spot only locals knew about. Those moments used to fill me with excitement, but now everything felt dull. I needed something to remind me why I loved traveling - like when I found that hidden waterfall in Oregon or camped under the stars in the desert. I wanted that feeling of wonder again.

Driving from Chicago to Denver was supposed to help clear my mind.

But as the miles went by, everything looked the same: flat farmland that stretched forever. The monotony of the endless road was almost hypnotic, and I still felt lost and uninspired. It was like I was running away from something but didn't know what, and nothing I found along the way seemed to fill the emptiness.

It felt different, almost like I was meant to stop there. The streets were unusually empty, and the buildings looked old and forgotten, like time had stopped. There was an eerie stillness in the air that made me shiver, like something was watching me from the shadows.

Council Bluffs was on the border between Iowa and Nebraska, next to the Missouri River. It had a simple charm - a gas station, an old diner that looked like it was from the 1950s, and a small church. Something about it made me curious, like there was more beneath the surface waiting to be discovered.

The motel I found was called the Silver Rest Inn.

It was right off the main road and looked old and run-down. The paint was peeling, and the old neon sign flickered as the sun started to set, casting long shadows across the parking lot. It was the kind of place people only used to sleep before moving on, and I figured it would be good enough for three nights.

As I parked my car, I felt the temperature drop suddenly, and I thought I heard a faint creaking sound, like an old door swinging in the wind. It made me uneasy. The air felt heavy, like a storm was coming, and my stomach twisted with worry.

I tried to ignore it and grabbed my bag, heading into the front office.

The room smelled like dust and something metallic that I couldn't quite place. Behind the counter was an old man with tired eyes. He nodded at me and spoke in a rough voice.

"Yeah, for three nights please…" I said, smiling even though I felt a bit uncomfortable.

He hesitated for a moment, then handed me an old key with a wooden tag. "Room 7," he said. He paused, looking serious. "There are a few rules you need to follow."

He nodded and pushed a small, yellowed piece of paper across the counter. The ink was smudged like it had been written a long time ago.

"It's nothing too serious," he said, but I could hear the unease in his voice. "Just things to keep in mind."

I took the note and looked at it. It had five rules:

A shiver ran through me. "Is this some kind of local superstition?" I asked, trying to sound amused, though my voice was shaky.

The old man's smile faded, and he looked at me seriously. "Just follow the rules. Room 7... it's different."

I wanted to ask more, but the way he looked at me made me stop. Instead, I nodded and took the key and the note. "Okay, I'll follow them," I said, trying to sound casual.

The room was at the far end of the motel, and the door looked worn from years of use. I turned the key in the lock, and the door opened with a heavy click. The room was what I expected-a bed with an old floral bedspread, a small wooden table, and a bathroom with a chipped mirror. The air was a bit stale, so I walked over to the window and pulled the curtains aside to let in some fresh air. Outside, everything was quiet, with only the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze.

I looked at the note again, feeling a strange sense of worry. It was just a room, I told myself. I had stayed in plenty of rooms like this. But I couldn't shake the look in the old man's eyes-it was like he was warning me. The air felt heavy, and I could swear I heard a faint rustle, like something moving in the shadows, making my skin prickle.

The first night, I ignored the rules. I left the bathroom door slightly open, even though I felt a shiver telling me I shouldn't. What harm could it cause? I got ready for bed, feeling exhausted from the long drive. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, and as I lay there, I couldn't help but think about the strange rules. The unease lingered, making it hard to fully relax. Eventually, exhaustion took over, and I fell asleep.

I woke up at 3:00 a.m. The room was dark, but something felt wrong. The air was damp, like just before a storm. I looked at the bathroom, and my heart skipped a beat. The door, which I had left partly open, was now wide open. The darkness inside seemed to move, almost like it was alive. My heart started to race, and then I heard it-a deep growl coming from the bathroom, like an animal in pain.

Fear took over, and I forced myself to move. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the floor cold beneath my feet. I crept toward the bathroom, my heart pounding in my ears. The growl stopped as soon as I touched the door, and I quickly pushed it shut, locking it.

I stood there, breathing hard, waiting for any other sound. But the room was silent again, and slowly the damp feeling in the air went away. I climbed back into bed, pulling the covers tightly around me, keeping my eyes on the bathroom door until I finally fell asleep. My dreams were uneasy, filled with fleeting images of shadows moving across the walls and whispering voices I couldn't understand. Every time I thought I was about to make out the words, I would wake up in a sweat, only to find the room quiet and still.

The next morning, I tried to shake off the fear from the night before. Maybe I hadn't closed the door properly, and the strange growl could have just been the wind or old pipes. I didn't want to think too much about it, so I spent the day exploring Council Bluffs. I took pictures of the Union Pacific Railroad Museum, the old Squirrel Cage Jail, and the Missouri River. The town was quiet and had a sort of eerie beauty to it. People were polite but not very friendly, and they seemed to look at me strangely when I mentioned the motel.

"You're staying at the Silver Rest Inn?" the waitress at the diner asked, her smile fading.

"Yeah," I said, trying to act normal. "Why? Is there something I should know?"

She hesitated, then looked around like she wanted to make sure no one else heard. "Just... follow the rules," she said quietly. "People who don't... well, they are never found again."

A shiver ran through me. Something about the way she said it made me feel like I was already in danger, like there was some dark secret everyone in the town knew but wouldn't share with outsiders. That night, back in Room 7, I made sure to follow the first rule. I closed the bathroom door firmly before getting into bed. I looked over the list again, my eyes lingering on the second rule: Do not open the window after 10:00 p.m., even if it gets hot.

The room felt stuffy. The air conditioner rattled, but it wasn't doing much to cool the room. By 11:00 p.m., I was sweating, and my shirt stuck to my skin. I knew what the note said, but no matter how hard I tried, I felt like I couldn't breathe, like something was very wrong with my throat. I walked over to the window and opened it, letting the cool night air in.

The breeze felt amazing, and I sighed with relief. But then I heard it : footsteps on the gravel outside the door. Slow and deliberate. My whole body tensed up. The footsteps got louder, and then there was a soft knock at the door. Then another, louder this time, like whoever it was wanted to be let in. My heart pounded as I crept towards the door, my eyes on the peephole.

I looked through the peephole, but there was nothing...just darkness. The knocking continued, getting louder and louder, echoing in the small room. I backed away, my gaze darting to the open window. The curtains moved with the breeze, and I rushed over to close the window. As soon as it was shut, the knocking stopped. The silence that followed was almost scarier than the knocking.

My hands were shaking, and I stood there, trying to make sense of it. There had been no one there, but the knocking and footsteps were real. I rushed to close the window, but it was like something invisible was pushing against it, making it almost impossible to move. I struggled with all my strength, my breath coming in ragged gasps, until finally, with a surge of effort, I managed to close it. Suddenly, the bathroom door burst open, and what seemed like an obscure creature on four legs lunged out. It looked like a twisted, shadowy animal-its body was long and skeletal, with jagged, bony legs that ended in sharp, claw-like points. Its face was featureless, a black void that seemed to absorb the light around it. My heart stopped as it came at me, and I closed my eyes, bracing for impact. But then... nothing. The sudden silence was deafening, as if the entire room had been swallowed by emptiness. I felt a strange, hollow stillness, like the world itself had paused. When I opened my eyes, the creature was gone, as if it had never been there. I collapsed onto the bed, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. I felt like I was losing my mind. I picked up the note again, and the words seemed even more important now. These weren't just silly superstitions-they were rules meant to keep me safe from forces beyond my comprehension.

That night, sleep did not come easily. Every small sound seemed amplified-the creak of the bed, the rustle of the curtains. I kept my eyes fixed on the bathroom door, half-expecting it to swing open again. When I finally drifted off, my dreams were filled with dark figures standing at the edge of my bed, their faces hidden, their whispers growing louder until I woke up, drenched in sweat.

By the third night, I was terrified. I knew there was something in Room 7, something dangerous. I had to follow every rule exactly. I closed the bathroom door, kept the window shut, and made sure to listen carefully before answering any knocks. But there was one rule I had forgotten-the cup of water on the nightstand.

It was past midnight when I remembered. My heart started to pound as I rushed to fill a cup of water from the bathroom sink and set it on the nightstand. I lay back down, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm myself. The room felt different, like the walls were pressing in on me, the shadows growing darker and more defined. I could feel the weight of something unseen watching me.

When I finally fell asleep, my dreams were dark and unsettling. I was back in the motel room, but everything felt wrong. The walls seemed to move, expanding and contracting like they were breathing, and shadows gathered in the corners, whispering. Figures stood at the edge of the bed, hidden by darkness. I tried to move, but I felt like something was holding me down, a heavy pressure on my chest that made it hard to breathe.

I woke up suddenly, my heart racing. The room was completely dark, and as my eyes adjusted, I saw something that made my blood run cold-long, slender handprints on the outside of the window. A chill went through me, and then I felt it-a cold breath on the back of my neck.

I turned quickly, but there was nothing there. The room was empty, but I felt like I was being watched. I looked at the cup of water on the nightstand-it was empty. My stomach sank. I must have drunk it in my sleep, breaking another rule.

The growl returned, deep and echoing around the room. The shadows gathered again, twisting and shifting into shapes that almost looked like people. My breath caught in my throat, and I shut my eyes, trying to make it all go away. I couldn't help but think, 'This can't be real. Please, let it stop. I can't take this anymore.' The fear was overwhelming, and I felt a desperation I had never known before. The growling got louder, coming from everywhere at once, a horrible, guttural sound that seemed to seep into my very bones.

When I opened my eyes, the figures were there, surrounding the bed, their faces hidden, their dark hands reaching towards me. They were closer now, and I could see the outlines of their forms, the way their fingers seemed to stretch and curl unnaturally.

The figures paused, their hands hovering over me. The shadows seemed to ripple, as if they were deciding what to do. Then, slowly, they began to fade away, dissolving into the darkness. The growling got quieter until the room was silent again. The air was still and cold, and I lay there, shaking, tears in my eyes. I knew I couldn't stay another night-if I did, I was certain that whatever lurked in the shadows would consume me entirely. The feeling of dread was overwhelming, and every instinct in my body screamed that I was in immediate danger, that the next encounter would be my last.

I knew I couldn't stay any longer. After the encounter with the creature, my instinct was to run. I grabbed my things and rushed downstairs, my heart pounding, every step echoing in the silence of the empty motel. I needed to leave-right now. My hands were trembling, and the fear clawed at my chest, making it hard to think clearly.

But when I reached the exit, the door wouldn't budge. I twisted the handle again and again, my panic growing with each failed attempt. It was locked, as if it hadn't been used in years. The windows were boarded up, and the dim light filtering through made everything look even more hopeless. I pounded on the door, my breath coming in short gasps. Panic surged through me, and I turned to see the old man standing behind the front desk, watching me with those tired, emotionless eyes.

"I need to leave," I said, my voice shaky, barely above a whisper. "Let me out. Please."

The old man shook his head slowly, almost sadly. "You can't leave until you've stayed the full nights you paid for," he said, his voice almost apologetic, but there was something cold in his tone, something that made my stomach twist even more.

I felt the walls of the room closing in on me, the heavy silence pressing down, and I wanted to scream. A cold dread settled in my stomach. I realized then that I was trapped. There was no way out until I faced the final night, until I followed every rule perfectly. My eyes darted around the lobby, searching for another exit, a back door, anything that could save me from returning to that cursed room. But there was nothing.

The old man didn't move. He just stood there, staring at me with that hollow gaze. I took a step back, my body trembling, and knew I had no choice. My heart sank as I turned and slowly walked back down the hallway. Every step felt heavier, like I was walking toward my doom. The hallway seemed longer than before, stretching endlessly, the dim lights flickering above me. I could feel tears stinging my eyes, but I blinked them away. I had to do this. I had no choice but to return to Room 7.

On the final night, I knew I had to follow every rule perfectly if I wanted to leave alive. I closed the bathroom door, kept the window shut, put the cup of water on the nightstand, and left a coin on the bedside table. I lay in bed, my eyes wide open, the silence in the room almost unbearable. My body was tense, every muscle tight, as I listened for the first sign of trouble. The air felt thick, as if it was weighing me down, and every sound seemed amplified in the deafening stillness.

At midnight, the knocking started again. It was soft at first, then got louder and more demanding. Each knock seemed to resonate deep in my bones, vibrating through the bedframe. The whispers followed, voices outside the window, growing in number until it sounded like a crowd murmuring just beyond the thin glass. Shadows moved beyond the glass, forming shapes that twisted and writhed. I kept my eyes on the coin, focusing on it as my only connection to reality, trying to block out the chaos around me. The room felt like it was getting darker, the pressure in the air building until I thought I would scream. My chest felt tight, and it was hard to breathe, like the very air was being sucked out of the room.

I felt the mattress dip slightly, as if something had climbed onto the bed. My heart raced, and I clenched my teeth to keep from crying out. I could feel an unnatural coldness spreading from the foot of the bed, moving closer, inch by inch. My entire body was paralyzed with fear, my muscles locked in place as I tried to keep my focus on the coin. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, and I could swear I heard my name being called, mixed in with the voices.

Then, slowly, the darkness began to lift. The whispers got quieter, the knocking stopped, and the shadows faded away. The air felt lighter, and the pressure on my chest slowly began to release. A faint light started to filter through the curtains, and I realized that dawn was breaking.

The sense of relief was overwhelming. I let out a shaky breath and felt tears welling up in my eyes. I had made it. I had survived the final night. My entire body was trembling, but I managed to get out of bed and gather my things. The rules had been followed, and I could feel that whatever haunted Room 7 was letting me go.

I made my way to the front desk, the old man was there, watching me as I approached. He looked tired, but there was a hint of relief in his eyes as well.

"You followed the rules," he said quietly, nodding as I handed him the key.

I nodded back, my voice too shaky to speak. I could barely believe that I was finally leaving. Without another word, I turned and walked out the door, stepping into the early morning light. The fresh air hit my face, and I felt a sense of freedom that I hadn't felt in days.

I got into my car, started the engine, and drove away from the Silver Rest Inn. As I glanced in the rearview mirror, I watched the old motel grow smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared from view. I knew, deep down, that I would never return to that place. Room 7 was still there, waiting for the next person who wouldn't listen to the