'The migrant crisis'

Two Nebraska brothers are hiking and camping along the Medicine Creek. During those few days‚ they encounter a massive Bigfoot on two separate occasions.I received the following account:"I grew up near Niobrara‚ Nebraska not far from the river. My brother and I were able to do a lot back then. We were outside year-round. We really enjoyed fishing in the river for catfish. It was the 1950s and things were different. No one cared much what you did‚ just so you didn't cause trouble.We usually fished in the morning and evening during the summer. In June 1959 we planned to hike to an area on Medicine Creek and spend a few nights there. It was about 5 miles from home. The second night we were there‚ we heard strange screaming sounds coming from one of the bluffs west of us. It wasn't like anything else I've ever heard before. We also heard something heavy moving through the brush and trees. I'll admit we were scared. As the night went on‚ things quieted down.The next morning I walked towards the bluff while gathering firewood. As I approached a rocky pass I caught a glimpse of something big and hairy running away from me. It wasn't a bear and stood at least 7 feet high. It was huge with a wide back. That was enough for me. I was ready to move camp someplace else.My brother and I packed up and started back toward the old trail. I guess we had walked about a mile‚ then stopped to fish at a good spot we knew. We spent most of the day there. Late afternoon we decided to hike back home. I wasn't feeling well anyway.The area was much different than today. It's part of a state park with lots of roads and camp areas today. Back then it was much more rugged.It was about 6 pm and we were close to the footbridge at the river. My brother suddenly stopped walking and pointed at a clearing at the river bank. He said someone was over there. We stood there for a minute‚ and then this huge hairy creature stood straight up and looked right at us. It let out a loud grunt‚ swinging its arm up over its head. We started running. I don't think we stopped until we got near the roadway at the end of the trail.Over the years‚ we talked about our run-in with the creature and we're both sure it was a Bigfoot. I only told a friend about it a few years later‚ but he thought I was lying to him. We've been back to the same area many times since then and never noticed anything. I contacted the BFRO in the 1990s but they never came out to take a statement.That's my story. You can contact me‚ I have a few questions." Thanks. Gary T.NOTE: I called Gary‚ who was 70‚ and we discussed the two encounters. I think it may have been the same Bigfoot trailing the brothers. There were no other details available from Gary‚ who had never heard of another sighting in that part of Nebraska. I checked the database‚ and there isn't much to refer to‚ other than a sighting in Knox County near Santee in 1979. That was classified as a BFRO Class 'A' report. I forwarded an inquiry to Nebraska Game and Parks about the area of the sighting. BTW‚ there have been documented Mountain Lion encounters throughout northern Nebraska. LonMythical Creatures (Mysteries‚ Legends‚ and Unexplained Phenomena)Valley of the Skookum: Four Years of Encounters With BigfootTrue Bigfoot Encounters: Eyewitness Accounts of Sasquatch Saving HumansVisits from the Forest People: An Eyewitness Report of Extended Encounters with BigfootThe Black Diary: M.I.B‚ Women in Black‚ Black-Eyed Children‚ and Dangerous BooksChasing the Elusive Pennsylvania Bigfoot: A Cryptid from Another RealityRegister a SNAP EBT CardTry Audible PlusPHANTOMS &; MONSTERS READING LISTHave you had a sighting or encounter?Contact me by email or call the hotline at 410-241-5974Thanks. LonAccess Phantoms &; Monsters Posts on Twitter 'X'-----YOUR SUPPORT IS APPRECIATED! THANKS-----WEREWOLVES‚ PORTALS‚ &; CRAWLERS NEAR THE LAND BETWEEN THE LAKES - LIVE Chat - Lon Strickler (Host)A Tennessee family‚ who lives near the Land Between the Lakes‚ experiences a variety of unsettling phenomena. As time goes on‚ the husband gives a detailed account of the activity‚ along with updates. I will also detail a very bizarre incident in which the witnesses experienced an abomination while at the Land Between the Lakes Recreational Area.Over the years I have received many requests to post and talk about the strange and unexplained activity in the Land Between the Lakes area. I'll let you decide how dangerous this region is.If you have questions‚ feel free to post them in the live chat. I will do my best to answer each.-----ORDER THE AUDIOBOOK VERSIONORDER THE AUDIOBOOK VERSIONProject Threshold: Finale-----TODAY'S TOP LINKSFountains of diamonds that erupt from Earth's center are revealing the lost history of supercontinentsMissing Link Found? Study Reveals Potential Hot Spring Birthplace of Early LifeFAERIES‚ ELVES‚ &; GNOMES - CRYPTID 'LITTLE PEOPLE' - LIVE Chat - Q &; A - Lon Strickler (Host)LISTEN TO NARRATIONS OF PHANTOMS &; MONSTERS REPORTS &; CASES - PLEASE SUBSCRIBE‚ LIKE &; SHAREHuge ancient lost city found in the AmazonArchaeologists Unearth Dozens of Egyptian Mummies—Two With Golden TonguesPHANTOMS &; MONSTERS READING LISTCONSIDER ADVERTISING ON PHANTOMS &; MONSTERS RADIOLET'S DISCUSS YOUR OPTIONSClick the link for our Media KitCHICAGO MOTHMAN / O'HARE BATMAN YouTube PlaylistPHANTOMS &; MONSTERS RADIO Podcasts on Spotify**********Your financial support of Phantoms &; Monsters and our other pursuits is much appreciated. Please click the banner above. Thanks.Have you had a sighting or encounter?Contact us by email or call the hotline at 410-241-5974Thanks. LonAlso available with audiobooknarration by Terry Springs‚CBS-TV Las Vegas affiliate.The Dark Arts of MISTER SAM SHEARON - Original Prints &; MerchandiseThis blog and newsletter are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Work 3.0 United States License.Registered trademark PHANTOMS AND MONSTERS ® / PHANTOMS &; MONSTERS ® - USPTO #90902480 - Lon D. Strickler© 2005-2024 Phantoms &; Monsters - All Rights Reserved

A young man on spring break was visiting his father in Denver. While out walking in the neighborhood late he notices two black-eyed kids harassing a man at his front door.I received the following account:“Here's a story that happened to me several years ago. So‚ I was on spring break. I went to my dad's in Denver‚ Colorado for the weekend. I had nothing to do late at night so I liked to walk the town. I was kinda walking around late at night alone. I know it can be dangerous but I only had one friend there. So‚ on Sunday night‚ I was out on the town alone‚ leaving a little pub that I found on Mead Street‚ probably around 1:00 in the morning. I was a little buzzed. Anyway‚ I wore a big black sweatshirt with dark jeans so that I could fend off any creepers. I hoped that worked. So‚ I was walking back home in the dark with my phone out as a flashlight on the street. There are limited street lights. Although it's a pretty safe neighborhood‚ I figured nobody would be out.I was about three houses away from mine and looked over and I saw two figures on the porch‚ talking to a man who was shaking his head refusing to open the screen door. I stopped cautiously at the end of the driveway‚ holding my phone‚ ready to help or call 911 or something. I really had no idea what was happening. I could only think that these two people were harassing the man who kinda looked angry and maybe a little bit startled. So‚ by my own means‚ I didn't think I was gonna be able to help. I'm like 5'6 and 130 pounds. No fighting skills. I just thought that maybe my hoodie would make me look bigger than I did. So I just stood there watching. And I heard the two boys‚ the two kids‚ it sounds like. I stepped forward‚ kinda looking‚ you know‚ looking over at this place‚ kinda like involuntarily moving forward. I don't know why I was. I was like halfway up the driveway and the driveway was illuminated by the porch light so he could see me and I could see him. And I just stood there watching and I just heard the voices saying‚ "Let us in‚ we need to call our mom. Please you have to let us in."  And these‚ it was like‚ no sense of fear in the voice. Just confident. I just stood there with chills running down my spine‚ unable to move.I tried to make sense of the situation. From a normal point of view‚ it looked like a grown man was refusing to help two children late at night. But the sense of dread that I felt at that moment‚ just made no sense. Like‚ why is this guy so afraid of two little kids? So‚ finally‚ I cleared my throat‚ thinking this man might help the kids‚ or if the man needed help‚ I could still do something. So the man looked up and the kids turned around. And the man looked even more afraid at this point. He let out a yelp and slammed his door. It made me jump. And the kids looked at me and I looked straight at them and like every instinct that I had was telling me to run for it. I was almost home. I was just a couple of houses away. And I knew for a fact that my dad had left the door unlocked. So I could easily get away and get inside for safety.The kids started coming closer. I could see them better in the light and I realized that they had no white in their eyes. It was just black. They slowly kept coming towards me. They didn't ask for anything. They didn't ask for help but they just seemed confused and I was confused. I don't know why I didn't run and I feel stupid for saying this because I wanted to but I was compelled to stay. And then the tallest child was right in front of me. He was only a few inches shorter than me and I glanced down at him‚ in a startled moment‚ he stared back up at me and he was like‚ "We have to use the phone." And his voice was eloquent‚ I guess‚ would be the way I would describe it. He knew what he wanted and for being alone with a stranger at 1:00 AM he did not seem at all afraid. I said‚ "I don't have one" and I kinda backed up because I didn't want to be that close to him but I still couldn't run even though I wanted to. Then he said. "Please‚ can we come in and use the phone? We need to get a hold of our mom." And like all my instincts told me to lie because‚ at this point‚ I didn't think I could outrun them. After all‚ they were right in front of me. They told me they needed to call their mom and I said‚ alright‚ my instincts were basically to lie. So I just said‚ "I don't have a phone and I don't live on this street or anywhere near here‚ I'm sorry." I could tell my voice was kinda shaking just because I was so nervous. "I'm in the same boat as you guys‚ my ride ditched me and I'm just walking until I find a phone too." I figured that maybe they would like to leave me alone if they believed that I had nothing.It was not until around this time‚ this point in the night when I kinda remembered something I had heard about the black-eyed kids but I still kinda refused to believe it. But then‚ I also refused to help these children that were staring at me‚ standing there. You would think‚ harmless children‚ but I was just‚ I don't know‚ anyway‚ they were like‚ "Please help us‚ we need to be let in.: I was like‚ "I don't know‚ try another house or a pay phone. I have some change if you want it." And they were like‚ "No‚ just forget it." I was like‚ 'I'm sorry‚ I wish I could help.' They were just staring at me blankly.I know I look younger than I appear‚ especially with my big hoodie. So I thought maybe they thought I was only like a teenager so they both kind of let me off. Then they both kind of nodded and stared and I was like‚ "Okay‚ I have to go. Good luck" and I turned and walked in the direction that I came. Not running. And just kept thinking‚ they can smell fear‚ they can smell fear‚ they can‚ they can smell fear. So I walked. I did not reach for my phone. I just kept walking. And I must have walked like three or four blocks away from my street and I turned around and headed back and my heart was just pounding like crazy. I walked up my street cautiously‚ just looking for the kids.I didn't see anything until I reached the house again. The porch light was still on and the man was standing there with the door open‚ the screen door closed‚ holding a baseball bat and he was shaking. Our eyes met and I looked at him confused until I realized that I looked like one of those kids. That's why he was so scared because I was wearing a hoodie. I said‚ I called out‚ "Did the kids leave?" And he was like‚ "The ones you were with earlier?" And I kinda jumped back again‚ I said‚ "The ones that were outside that talked to me for a few minutes and they wanted to call their mom‚ did they leave? Do you know if they left?" He was like‚ "I watched them walk away earlier. I don't know‚ I feel uneasy and I won't let you in.' I was like‚ "Okay‚ I have to go home. I don't need to be let in."So‚ anyway‚ I don't go to my dad's that often so it makes sense that he wouldn't recognize me in the dark. So I walked home and I got there safely. I locked the door. I sat in the kitchen for a long time. I was afraid to go into my room because there was a huge window in my room. I was just really afraid that somebody might be looking back at me through the window. The scary part was‚ the next night there was a knock at the door at about 11:00 PM and I didn't answer because my father told me not to. He said it was late and it was probably no one we wanted to talk to. But I can't help but feel really uneasy about it even to this day‚ wondering if they had come back for me the next day.” MMMythical Creatures (Mysteries‚ Legends‚ and Unexplained Phenomena)Valley of the Skookum: Four Years of Encounters With BigfootTrue Bigfoot Encounters: Eyewitness Accounts of Sasquatch Saving HumansVisits from the Forest People: An Eyewitness Report of Extended Encounters with BigfootThe Black Diary: M.I.B‚ Women in Black‚ Black-Eyed Children‚ and Dangerous BooksChasing the Elusive Pennsylvania Bigfoot: A Cryptid from Another RealityRegister a SNAP EBT CardTry Audible PlusPHANTOMS &; MONSTERS READING LISTHave you had a sighting or encounter?Contact me by email or call the hotline at 410-241-5974Thanks. LonAccess Phantoms &; Monsters Posts on Twitter 'X'-----YOUR SUPPORT IS APPRECIATED! THANKS-----WEREWOLVES‚ PORTALS‚ &; CRAWLERS NEAR THE LAND BETWEEN THE LAKES - LIVE Chat - Lon Strickler (Host)A Tennessee family‚ who lives near the Land Between the Lakes‚ experiences a variety of unsettling phenomena. As time goes on‚ the husband gives a detailed account of the activity‚ along with updates. I will also detail a very bizarre incident in which the witnesses experienced an abomination while at the Land Between the Lakes Recreational Area.Over the years I have received many requests to post and talk about the strange and unexplained activity in the Land Between the Lakes area. I'll let you decide how dangerous this region is.If you have questions‚ feel free to post them in the live chat. I will do my best to answer each.-----ORDER THE AUDIOBOOK VERSIONORDER THE AUDIOBOOK VERSIONProject Threshold: Finale-----TODAY'S TOP LINKSFountains of diamonds that erupt from Earth's center are revealing the lost history of supercontinentsMissing Link Found? Study Reveals Potential Hot Spring Birthplace of Early LifeFAERIES‚ ELVES‚ &; GNOMES - CRYPTID 'LITTLE PEOPLE' - LIVE Chat - Q &; A - Lon Strickler (Host)LISTEN TO NARRATIONS OF PHANTOMS &; MONSTERS REPORTS &; CASES - PLEASE SUBSCRIBE‚ LIKE &; SHAREHuge ancient lost city found in the AmazonArchaeologists Unearth Dozens of Egyptian Mummies—Two With Golden TonguesPHANTOMS &; MONSTERS READING LISTCONSIDER ADVERTISING ON PHANTOMS &; MONSTERS RADIOLET'S DISCUSS YOUR OPTIONSClick the link for our Media KitCHICAGO MOTHMAN / O'HARE BATMAN YouTube PlaylistPHANTOMS &; MONSTERS RADIO Podcasts on Spotify**********Your financial support of Phantoms &; Monsters and our other pursuits is much appreciated. Please click the banner above. Thanks.Have you had a sighting or encounter?Contact us by email or call the hotline at 410-241-5974Thanks. LonAlso available with audiobooknarration by Terry Springs‚CBS-TV Las Vegas affiliate.The Dark Arts of MISTER SAM SHEARON - Original Prints &; MerchandiseThis blog and newsletter are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Work 3.0 United States License.Registered trademark PHANTOMS AND MONSTERS ® / PHANTOMS &; MONSTERS ® - USPTO #90902480 - Lon D. Strickler© 2005-2024 Phantoms &; Monsters - All Rights Reserved

Bad Religion is one of the longest-running American punk rock bands of all time. The group was formed in Los Angeles in 1980. One of the most intelligent bands around‚ vocalist Greg Graffin is‚ in fact‚ a college lecturer‚ and the band has always been outspoken about politics and‚ as their name would suggest‚ religion. Despite their roots being very much in the underground‚ they have achieved much commercial success throughout their career‚ mainly due to their melodic brand of punk‚ which has often contained pop sensibilities. They have had a lot of line-up changes during their time‚ with Graffin The post Top 10 Bad Religion Songs appeared first on ClassicRockHistory.com.

What do you do if you’re the last person who speaks an indigenous language that reveres silence? That’s a fine pickle to find yourself in‚ and for the last speaker of Chaná in Argentina‚ it was time to finally speak up. Chaná‚ correctly called ‘Lanték’ is part of the Charruan language family‚ and according to […] The post 89-year-old had to ‘Speak Up’ to Save Believed-Extinct Language of Indigenous People Who Revered Silence appeared first on Good News Network.

The post Can Cats Eat Yams? Vet-Approved Nutrition Facts by Catster Editorial Team appeared first on Catster. Copying over entire articles infringes on copyright laws. You may not be aware of it‚ but all of these articles were assigned‚ contracted and paid for‚ so they aren't considered public domain. However‚ we appreciate that you like the article and would love it if you continued sharing just the first paragraph of an article‚ then linking out to the rest of the piece on Catster.com. Yams are a big part of meals in autumn and winter. As you prepare for holiday dishes‚ you may be wondering if you can share some of your yams with your cat. Or‚ if your cat likes to sample food from the counter‚ if it’s safe to eat yams? Yes‚ cats can eat cooked‚ plain yams‚ but there are disadvantages for some cats.  You also have to be cautious about the other ingredients that are often included in these recipes. What Are Yams? Yams are a variety of plant species belonging to the genus Dioscorea. Yams are a type of tuber vegetable that’s native to Africa‚ though they’re cultivated in temperate and tropical regions of South America‚ the Caribbean‚ Asia‚ and Oceania. Though yams and sweet potatoes are used interchangeably‚ they’re not quite the same thing. Yams are darker than sweet potatoes and have a bark-like skin with white‚ purple‚ or reddish flesh. When cooked‚ yams are creamier than potatoes and have a flavor closer to yucca. In addition‚ true yams should not be consumed raw. They contain phytic acid and oxalates. Sweet potatoes may not be a pleasant experience to eat raw‚ but cats will likely just get an upset stomach if they do so. Image Credit: HUIZENG‚ Shutterstock Can Cats Eat Yams? Fortunately‚ cats can eat both true yams and sweet potatoes—as long as they’re cooked. As mentioned‚ true yams are toxic when raw. Phytic acid is considered an anti-nutrient as it binds to minerals and stops their absorption. While a small amount is not likely to harm your cat‚ large amounts over time may cause a problem. Phytic acid content can be reduced by soaking followed by cooking. Oxalates increase your cat’s risk of developing urinary stones formed from oxalate such as calcium oxalate. Oxalate content is reduced by boiling but not other cooking methods. Sweet potatoes should also be cooked before feeding because they can cause some mild digestive upset‚ but they aren’t toxic in their raw form. Too much plant based food is likely to cause cats to have an upset stomach‚ as they are not designed to digest this well. Yams and sweet potatoes also need to be plain to give to your cat. Common recipes contain ingredients that aren’t healthy or may even be poisonous. For example‚ candied yams (sweet potatoes) are popular for holiday get-togethers. Traditionally‚ this meal is made of yams or sweet potatoes with brown sugar‚ marshmallows‚ and a lot of butter. Eating this much sugar can lead to an upset stomach and over time weight gain which will make your cat susceptible to joint problems‚ diabetes and urinary issues. You may feel bad denying your cat these treats that we enjoy‚ but keep in mind that it appears that cats can’t even taste sweets. So‚ all that sugary goodness is lost on your cat anyway. Image Credit: truenos86‚ Shutterstock Should I Feed Yams to My Cat? Cats are obligate carnivores and need meat to survive and thrive. Though they need some carbohydrates‚ they get everything they need in the perfect balance from their high-quality commercial cat food. Yams are great for humans but pose some problems to cats. A small amount of cooked yam is unlikely to hurt most cats. If your cat is on a urinary diet or is prone to urinary issues it is best to stay away from yams altogether. Make sure yams or sweet potatoes are completely plain and cooked with no seasoning‚ sugar‚ sauces‚ fats‚ or any other ingredients. Conclusion Yams and sweet potatoes are safe for most cats when they’re plain‚ peeled‚ and completely cooked. If you want to give your cat a little bit of yam‚ you can offer a teaspoon or two on occasion‚ but it’s better to stick to commercial treats for your cat to avoid disrupting their complete diet. In addition if your cat has urinary problems avoid yams altogether. Sources https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/7971785 https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/19774556/ https://www.vin.com/apputil/content/defaultadv1.aspx?id=3847272&;pid=11154 https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/15826055/ https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4325021/ https://www.vet.cornell.edu/departments-centers-and-institutes/cornell-feline-health-center/health-information/feline-health-topics/feeding-your-cat https://www.petmd.com/cat/nutrition/can-cats-taste-sweet-things Featured Image Credit: Adao‚ Shutterstock The post Can Cats Eat Yams? Vet-Approved Nutrition Facts by Catster Editorial Team appeared first on Catster. Copying over entire articles infringes on copyright laws. You may not be aware of it‚ but all of these articles were assigned‚ contracted and paid for‚ so they aren't considered public domain. However‚ we appreciate that you like the article and would love it if you continued sharing just the first paragraph of an article‚ then linking out to the rest of the piece on Catster.com.

Acclaimed author Harold Waldrop passed away on January 15‚ 2024 in Austin‚ Texas at the age of 77 after complications from a stroke. Waldrop‚ who is recognized by many to be one of the best short story writers in SFF‚ was known for works including 1980’s “The Ugly Chickens‚” a story about how the dodo became extinct in the South‚ which won the Nebula and World Fantasy awards that year. Waldrop was born in Houston‚ Mississippi on September 15‚ 1946‚ but moved to Weatherford‚ Texas when he was four years old. He lived in Texas for most of his life‚ and was a founding member of the state’s Turkey City Writer’s Workshop‚ a program founded in 1973 that is seen as the locus for the cyberpunk subgenre. Waldrop’s first published genre work was “Lunchbox‚” which appeared in the May 1972 issue of Analog. His first novel was 1974’s The Texas-Israeli War: 1999‚ which he co-authored with Jake Saunders. That story took place in a post-World War III dystopian future where 90 percent of the population had been killed. Waldrop‚ however‚ is best known for his short fiction. In addition to “The Ugly Chickens‚” he’s also known for 1987’s “Night of the Cooters‚” which Vincent D’Onofrio adapted as a 2022 film short that he directed and starred in‚ with George R.R. Martin producing. In over 50 years he published more than 80 short stories‚ and had several collections published‚ including Strange Monsters of the Recent Past‚ Night of the Cooters: More Neat Stories‚ Horse of a Different Color: Stories and‚ most recently‚ 2023’s H’ard Starts: The Early Waldrop. In 2021‚ Waldrop received the World Fantasy Award for Lifetime Achievement. “Most people reading my writing think I’m like a buffoon‚ you know‚ blowing off my bazoo just by the writing‚” Waldrop said in a 2017 interview with The Austin Chronicle. “I don’t use it to hide‚ but people reading it can probably figure out what I’m about. But I don’t set out to do that. Most people write to show off. I write because I don’t know anything else.”

Under the right circumstances‚ would even a god fall? We’re thrilled to share an excerpt from The Longest Autumn by Amy Avery‚ a debut fantasy—perfect for fans of Ariadne—about a human who gets trapped with the god of Autumn‚ who brings with him life-threatening danger and a forbidden romance—out now from Flatiron Books. Tirne is one of four humans rigorously selected to usher the turn of the seasons into the mortal world. Every year‚ she escorts the taciturn god Autumn between the godly and human realms. Autumn’s seasonal stay among mortals brings cooler weather‚ changing leaves‚ and the harvest of apples and gourds until Winter takes his place. This year‚ the enchanted Mirror that separates their worlds shatters after Tirne and Autumn pass through‚ trapping both of them in the human realm. As the endless autumn stretches on‚ crops begin to fail and the threat of starvation looms. Away from the magic of the gods’ home‚ Tirne suffers debilitating headaches that return with a vengeance. Worse‚ Autumn’s extended stay in the human realm turns him ever more mortal and vulnerable‚ stirring a new‚ forbidden attraction to Tirne. While the priesthood scrambles to find a way to reassemble the Mirror‚ Tirne digs into the temple’s secrets and finds an unlikely ally—or enemy—in the enigmatic sorcerer and master of poisons‚ Sidriel. Thrown into a world of mystery‚ betrayal‚ and espionage as she searches for the truth‚ might Tirne lose her morals‚ her hard-earned position‚ and the illicit spark between her and Autumn?     The souls of the dead burn in the night sky. An eerie light hangs over the Temple courtyard‚ the blue and green and violet glow of souls‚ bobbing overhead like enormous fireflies. Some wait patiently. Others flit around me in a nervous dance‚ uncertain. I lift a hand to brush a passing one‚ its pulse like a phantom cat rubbing against my fingertips. A human face flickers at its center‚ but the soul darts away before I can peer too closely. “Soon‚” I promise softly as I take another bite of my peach‚ sitting cross-legged with my back pressed against the Mirror. The fruit is small and overripe‚ cloyingly sweet. It’s the last of the summer harvest‚ though heat still lingers in the air‚ muggy and thick as soup. Tomorrow‚ after I’ve returned to the human realm for autumn‚ this will be an apple‚ the first fruit of my season. Our season. An electric tingle sparks in my belly. Anticipation‚ yes‚ but also inevitable nervousness. One would think six years of escorting Autumn would make tomorrow’s ceremony routine‚ effortless. I don’t think I’ll ever banish the doubts entirely‚ the worry that I’m not truly fi t for this duty‚ a mere fragile human mingling with the divine. But tomorrow I’ll prove once more that I earned this‚ that I’m worthy‚ that Autumn made the right choice when he selected me. My name will earn its place on the stone monument at the corner of this courtyard. Tirne of Autumn‚ inscribed just below the previous Herald’s name. Buy it Now Even though it’s too far to see detail in the darkness‚ I know the names‚ dozens of them. I’ve read them so many times‚ picturing mine engraved beneath. The soft brown of the monument matches the rest of the courtyard‚ a wide circular space framed with walls of acorn-colored stone carved in swirls and sigils. Glossy ceramic tiles of creamy white rest beneath me. Broad arches at either end bear heavy gates‚ though I’ve never seen them closed. The Temple is open to all. And in the center of it all lies the Mirror‚ immense and red as a ruby. Finishing the peach‚ I place the pit on the tray with sticky fingers‚ then wipe my hands with the damp cloth folded on the side. I already polished off the seed-flecked flatbread and crisp white wine. Offerings‚ payment to the woman who nightly ferries the dead from their realm. A nearby soul dips closer to my empty cup. Perhaps in its mortal life‚ this one enjoyed wine. My god assures me the dead do not truly remember their past lives‚ but they are nonetheless drawn to things they once loved. Soft footsteps echo on the tile. Right on time. A familiar figure approaches through the archway. In the darkness‚ he almost looks like a phantom‚ with his bone-white skin and equally pale hair. Gifts from his mother‚ Winter. The souls flit away from him‚ though only I can see them. “Jaed.” I sigh. Our yearly routine. “You know you shouldn’t be here.” Technically‚ he’s not breaking any laws by entering the courtyard at night‚ but it’s still taboo for anyone but Autumn or myself to enter this space between dusk and dawn. The first year he came‚ I’d been mortified‚ panicked. But when no punishment fell‚ I’d accepted Jaed’s annual illicit visit. “We could just do this tomorrow.” The same admonishment‚ an old dance of familiar steps. He sits beside me‚ folding his legs and bumping my shoulder with his own. “Tomorrow isn’t your birthday. Come on. Close your eyes.” A familiar ritual. I do‚ holding out my hand. He presses something small and cool into it. When I open my eyes‚ a gemstone bead rests in my palm. Amber this year‚ honey-gold with a few tiny bubbles trapped inside. I hold it up‚ watching the light of the souls shine through it. “Here.” Jaed unclasps my bracelet‚ taking the bead and stringing it on before refastening it. “Twenty-six.” I turn it to admire all the beads. He’d given the bracelet to me on my eighth birthday‚ with eight beads. We’d replaced the cord with a longer one a few years ago‚ now wrapping it twice about my wrist. The beads are an incongruous assortment‚ each one subject to my friend’s whims at the time. I have to admit‚ the amber looks nice against last year’s orange carnelian. It may be a childish tradition‚ but still it makes me smile. “Thank you.” “Happy birthday.” He grins as he settles himself more comfortably‚ adjusting his legs. Still‚ he doesn’t touch the Mirror. He knows what it means to me. I lean into his side‚ resting my head on his shoulder and twining our hands together. “I missed you.” “Me too.” I sniff. “You smell like someone else’s cologne. Who did you leave sleeping in your bed tonight?” Jaed laughs. “A new acolyte this year. You’ll like him. He’s excited to meet you‚ too. He was on kitchen duty tonight and kept swapping out peaches for your offering‚ determined to pick the best one.” “Well‚ you can tell him he chose well‚ and thank you.” He gives my hand a reluctant squeeze. “I’ll let you finish your duty before you get a headache.” He’s right. Every moment I spend in this realm‚ I risk one of my attacks. Back in Sylvus‚ the realm of the gods‚ I’ll be safe. “Thanks‚” I say as he stands and helps me up. He presses a light kiss to my cheek before sauntering away. I turn back to the task at hand. My magic reaches outward like seeking vines‚ a lure to draw the last of the stray souls to me. They swarm thickly‚ crowding me though they bear no weight. I usher the dead closer‚ a shepherd gathering her flock. “Well‚ come on‚ then.” The words are gentle‚ encouraging. I turn to the Mirror‚ a masterpiece identical to its twin in Sylvus. Without a single imperfection‚ the bloodred glass is immense‚ mounted on polished black onyx a foot thick. The top curves in a graceful arch‚ wide enough for two people to stand before it without touching‚ and taller than I could reach if I stretched my arms above me. Seasonal motifs decorate the edges: summer’s blazing sun‚ autumn pumpkins‚ winter-bare trees‚ spring blossoms. They weave together in a carved pattern of exquisite artistry. I’ve spent hours admiring the curves of ivy vines‚ the sweep of a songbird’s wing etched into the stone. It is said that the Mirror’s frame possesses such detail that only an immortal could ever memorize its lines and intricacies. But I think that if I try hard enough‚ perhaps I might‚ too. Magic seeps from the Mirror like water dripping from an overfilled bucket‚ in the sharp‚ electric tang of an incoming storm. Here lies the sole portal between our worlds‚ the most powerful artifact in the world‚ and it bows to my bidding. Another thrill shudders through me‚ and I breathe deeply once‚ twice. My entire life‚ the world has felt like a giant wheel‚ spinning slowly‚ and the Mirror has always been at the center. How many times have I looked into my own dark eyes painted the color of garnets? Taking a deep breath‚ I pull the dead souls close once more. My hand dips into my pocket to withdraw my ceremonial knife. Acorns cast in gold twine about the handle‚ with a slim blade the length of my hand. In a smooth‚ practiced motion‚ I press the tip to my palm until the skin breaks. The spark of pain doesn’t even make me flinch anymore. It’s nothing compared to the pounding agony in my head when I linger too long here. I can feel one of the attacks starting now‚ a watering eye‚ a creeping throb in my temple. Only an hour spent in the human world‚ and already it crawls into my skull. Too relentless and unpredictable‚ these headaches‚ like a stalking predator ready to strike me down at any moment. A crimson drop of blood wells against my skin‚ a gleaming ruby‚ and I flatten my hand against the glass. Icy cold numbs my skin despite summer’s heat. I reach for that flicker of magic in my breast‚ the gift I received from the gods six years ago‚ but it slithers away. Grasping the power is like clutching at a tendril of smoke‚ but I manage to harness the elusive magic and press it into the glass. The blood seeps into the Mirror. It softens beneath my palm‚ and I press through. It feels like walking in water‚ sluggish‚ thick. Behind me‚ the souls follow. We emerge in the palace of the gods in Sylvus‚ among shimmering‚ glassy halls never truly meant for mortals like me. But I cast the familiar scenery little more than a glance as I hold the Mirror’s portal open until the last soul slips through. The leader of a macabre parade‚ I usher the dead through the silent‚ empty palace‚ then beyond the heavy black door that only my god and I are allowed to open. Autumn is more than the god of his season; as the ruler of death‚ this is his demesne I approach. Winding obsidian stairs lead down‚ down‚ ever downward. Lights are few and far between‚ leaving the space dim. But after half a dozen years‚ I could tread these steps in complete darkness. The stairwell ends at a circular room. As he does every night‚ my god awaits upon his throne‚ resplendent and achingly inhuman. His eyes burn and flicker like orange flames in a bone-pale face. A cloak of eternally-falling leaves drapes him‚ their detritus littering the slick black stone of the floor. And yet all this beauty is cold‚ impassive as only a god could be. I lead the souls to Autumn’s well‚ carved seamlessly of gleaming obsidian. One by one‚ they sink into the murky abyss of Autumn’s underworld. The realm is forbidden even to me‚ his Herald‚ at least until old age or misfortune claims my life‚ too. Then I will cross that border like any mortal. When the last soul sinks into the dark‚ I bow to my god. He nods without a word‚ the ceremony complete until we repeat it again tomorrow night. And every night thereafter‚ until I find my own place in the underworld‚ my position filled by a new mortal Herald. I ascend the steps once more and seek my bed. Already‚ the shimmer of magic that infuses the gods’ realm eases the ache that grips my skull‚ scrubbing away the pain of the human world. The human realm. Despite the threat of my headaches‚ excitement still flickers. Tomorrow‚ I fulfill my most important duty‚ and Autumn will return to the First Temple.   I awaken to a rapid heartbeat and a queasy feeling. Excitement more than anxiety‚ but both fl utter through me. As my nerves settle‚ I don the traditional robe‚ the crown‚ and my golden belt‚ and leave for the Mirror’s room. My sandals echo on the smooth floors of the gods’ palace‚ which gleams like an enormous sheet of white glass. I drink it all in. The first time I entered these halls‚ they’d stolen my breath away with their high arched ceilings carved in crystalline‚ geometric detail. Though Sylvus is a cold and impassive place‚ there is also a peace here that I will miss for the next few months. As ever‚ sourceless light bathes the space‚ and my reflections stare back at me with dark‚ solemn eyes. Passing the fountain that ever bubbles with iridescent lavender water‚ I breathe in the crisp scent of its magic. Even the water here is holy‚ special. It’s said that a mortal bathed in it would live forever. It’s forbidden‚ of course. I can’t even touch a drop of it without risking permanent banishment from Sylvus and even the human Temple. This glory was built for the divine‚ not for us. We are only visitors‚ the four humans granted the right to live in such splendor for nine months of every year. As lovely and calm as it is‚ Sylvus has never truly been home. Home is a world away‚ drenched in the murmur of devotions and hymns weaving through the First Temple‚ the smoky scent of myrrh and clove incense. A place of soft brown stone‚ mortar and brick‚ the work of feeble‚ proud human hands. A vivid contrast to the hollow iridescence that surrounds me now. The human world is touch‚ warmth‚ and comfort. Jaed’s laugh‚ his embrace. The simple feel of hands entwined. Aside from last night’s brief meeting‚ I’ve felt no one’s touch save my own for nine months‚ and I thirst for it like water. Soon. Eagerness swells‚ quelling the anxiety. A smile tugs on my lips and my steps quicken. I lift a hand to straighten my crown of autumn leaves‚ a ceremonial affectation. Stray twigs tug painfully at my auburn curls. Every year‚ it takes ages to untangle my hair from it‚ but it’s tradition. I can’t deny it paints a pretty picture with the sleeveless crimson robe and wide golden belt of Autumn’s Herald. A voice bounces off the sparkling walls as I draw nearer to the Mirror Chamber. The goddess Winter’s low contralto purr‚ the words indistinguishable but the tone unmistakable condescension. Autumn replies in his husky tone that invokes the rustle of leaves‚ a cool drizzle. “She won’t be late.” I reach the open archway that leads into the Mirror Chamber. “No‚ she won’t.” I don’t bother hiding the chill in my tone as my gaze latches on Winter’s. Colorless‚ like diamonds with a single fleck of soot in the center. Perhaps it would unnerve some humans‚ but it has never cowed me‚ one raised among the gods’ children. Winter’s thin lips press together. She maintains silence‚ her snowpale face inscrutable‚ but I can practically hear her thoughts like violent music. Jealousy that I serve my god eagerly‚ that I excel at it. Not once have I lost a stray soul ushering the dead into Autumn’s underworld. Meanwhile‚ her Herald is as vicious and jagged as she‚ sullenly performing his sole task to the letter and nothing more. I turn my attention back to my god‚ who stands before the Mirror. The tension passes‚ and the solemnity of the situation settles once more. Autumn is dignified‚ impassive. His leafy crown is grander than mine‚ woven through with vines of beaten gold. It’s a perfect match for his cloak of falling leaves. The ember-orange fire in his eyes brightens as they trace my face. I spare a glance at the others gathered here. Spring with his rose-gold hair and wide‚ infectious smile‚ standing beside his timid Herald‚ eyes downcast and hands clutching one another. Winter’s Herald stands tall at his goddess’s side‚ burning with palpable indignation at my impudence to her. His eyes are as black as mine‚ and gleam with the sharpness of a newly-honed blade. I would not call us friends‚ the other Heralds and me‚ but we share a bond as the only human souls here‚ locked away from our home for months with no other company except aloof gods. Lys‚ father of the Seasons and the highest of the gods‚ stands in dignified splendor beside the Mirror. The ghost of what might be a frown curves his mouth. He is tall‚ taller than any human I have met‚ in shades of precious metal. His hair shines like strands of fine‚ beaten gold‚ his eyes like burnished silver coins. Even his skin glows with a faint light‚ like a paper lantern. Yet his glory pales before the Mirror. This close‚ it’s overwhelming‚ broad as the Temple gates and nearly twice as tall as me. Summer already stands on the opposite side in the human realm‚ her deep brown skin perfectly accented by a golden dress and a crown of sunflowers atop her dark curls. Tinted crimson in the reflection of the red‚ red glass‚ the courtyard of the First Temple lies behind her. Worshippers have gathered there to watch me bring Autumn into their world. My world. As I approach the Mirror‚ Summer’s Herald pierces her hand and touches it‚ palm flat and fingertips outspread‚ a smear of her blood darkening the surface. We nod to one another. Summer steps through the Mirror into Sylvus on my right‚ her Herald following in her wake. Quickly‚ now. In a few efficient motions‚ I press my Herald’s blade to my palm until the skin breaks. Bouncing eagerly on the balls of my feet‚ I touch the Mirror and pull at that indefinable flicker of power inside me. The Mirror softens beneath my touch‚ and Autumn passes through beside me. I walk into the human world next. As I emerge from the Mirror’s surface‚ my gut wrenches and flips‚ a sensation I’ve never felt during this ceremony. For a panicked moment‚ I fear my breakfast will heave up on the Temple courtyard. Reflexively‚ I clutch my stomach. The sensation fades quickly as warm sunlight cascades over me. I drop my hand‚ hoping all eyes were on my god instead. A cautious‚ steadying breath reassures me. As I inhale‚ the scent of the mortal realm hits me. Summer in all its fading glory. The lush aroma of grass gone to seed‚ of dusty earth baked by sunlight. Since becoming a Herald‚ I’ve briefly smelled fresh-blooming roses‚ or winter’s biting frost. My world is painted in the fragrance of the dying season‚ the sweetness of hay‚ of pumpkin and apple‚ the dry smell of leaves crunching underfoot. For nine months‚ I’ve only seen the Temple in the deepest part of the night to collect souls and my offering‚ for a handful of minutes at a time. But now three glorious months await me here. Home. The Temple courtyard lies open to the sky. The sun is too bright‚ too hot. I turn to meet Autumn’s fiery gaze. Only I can read him well enough to note the faint excitement in those eyes‚ buried deep beneath the regal countenance of the divine. He gives me a single‚ tiny nod. A thank-you‚ a congratulations on a job well done. Again‚ pride swells within me. Another Changing of the Seasons has passed‚ smooth as silk. A crowd has gathered to watch the beginning of autumn. Garbed for the occasion in hues of russet and gold‚ wearing masks crafted to look like fallen leaves‚ they cheer and applaud. The priests and acolytes kneel‚ Autumn’s burnt-orange robes in front‚ icy blue and pale pink and soft gold scattering behind. Autumn stands tall and proud‚ his crown gleaming at his brow. In the noonday sun‚ the faint shimmer of bronze gleams in his hair. Leaves swirl away from his cloak in a sudden gust of wind. In this moment‚ he is mighty‚ unknowable. His power wafts from him like ink spreading in water. Soon the earth will respond to his presence in this world‚ plants fading and the air growing chill. A hush falls as the crowd awaits his traditional words of greeting. Instead‚ a great crack behind me cleaves the silence. I whirl to look‚ but Autumn shoves me in front of him‚ lifting his cloak of falling leaves to shield me. His golden crown falls to clatter on the courtyard’s cobblestones. A tight pain erupts between my temples‚ and I cry out. It’s as bad as my worst headaches‚ sudden and sharp and debilitating. My knees threaten to collapse‚ but Autumn holds me fast. A tinkling sound scatters in the air like wind chimes. When the crystalline sound dies away‚ silence grasps the courtyard. The agony in my head fades as quickly as it burst‚ as fast as the nausea earlier. I become suddenly‚ acutely aware of a warm hand wrapped around my bare upper arm. Sucking in a sharp‚ terrified breath‚ I twist out of Autumn’s grasp. I stare at the ground while a single thought screams in my mind. He touched me. In front of everyone. My skin burns where his fingertips pressed against my arm. It is profanity to feel the skin of a god. It doesn’t matter that he made the move. The sin will be mine. Panic scatters my thoughts. Any moment‚ I’ll hear the angry shout. A terrified lump forms in my throat as I sweep a nervous gaze around the crowd‚ but no one cries blasphemy. The throng remains silent‚ the air crackling with tension. Crimson shards litter the ground‚ save the small circle of protection Autumn formed around me. My stomach clenches as realization settles in‚ and I turn to survey the scene. The Mirror lies in pieces. Only a solid slab of black stone remains‚ etched with arcane symbols once hidden underneath. Scratches mar the writing‚ defacing the perfect etchings into something ugly. A few shards cling to the edges. One of them falls as I watch‚ clinking against the tiles. It feels like a punch to my gut. I can’t breathe. This isn’t happening. “No.” Autumn’s voice echoes my thought‚ a bare whisper as he stares at the blank arch. My god’s sharp profile reveals a brow furrowed in anguish. His head bows‚ his eyes close. From the sea of onlookers‚ a single sob breaks the paralyzed hush and galvanizes the assembly. People rush forward‚ weeping over the bits of crimson glass‚ all while the priests of Autumn struggle to control a crowd that rapidly threatens to turn into a riot. “Stop.” Autumn’s voice carries over the chaos‚ though it is not quite a shout. The humans do as he bids‚ compelled by the wave of magic rippling outward from his voice. “All but those who dwell here‚ leave the pieces here and exit the courtyard.” In a daze‚ people trickle out of the Temple. When the space has emptied of all but the faithful‚ priests and acolytes dart about to collect the shards. They seem heedless of the small cuts that spill their precious‚ magic-filled blood onto the tile. Someone has fetched offering bowls. Holy objects now hold the broken remnants of the most powerful‚ ancient artifact in the world. “We can fix it‚” one weeping priestess mutters over and over again. I don’t know if they can‚ but I won’t tell her that. Instead‚ I bend to help. Numbness settles over me‚ a heavy weight. A tear drips from my chin‚ and I realize I’m crying‚ too. I blink away the blurriness and reach for a shard. It slices into the meat of my thumb‚ and I hiss at the pain. “Don’t.” Autumn speaks softly. When I look up‚ his eyes are locked on the blood welling up in the wound. At his side‚ his hand flexes‚ stretching‚ then curling into a fist. “Let the priests do it.” I swallow‚ sucking on the wound‚ then pressing it to my crimson robe to stop the bleeding. “Yes‚ Your Holiness.” I’m shivering now‚ despite summer’s heat. “You may go. I have much to attend to.” A drastic understatement‚ but I’m too shaken to do anything but nod numbly and leave. It can’t be gone. I barely take in my surroundings‚ my feet carrying me to my room while my mind buzzes with a low hum of panic. Everything has changed. Without the Mirror‚ the souls of the dead will linger here until I choke on them‚ invisible to all save me and my god. A lesson from my training echoes in my mind. If the dead can’t descend to the underworld‚ they will leech life from the living in an attempt to regain what they once were. And if the Mirror isn’t restored in time for winter‚ the world will be locked in an eternal season of dying. How much time remains until the winter stockpiles are used up‚ long before she even arrives? We’ll ­ fix it‚ I tell myself desperately. We have to.   Excerpted from The Longest Autumn. Copyright © 2024 by Amy Avery. Excerpted by permission of Flatiron Books‚ a division of Macmillan Publishers. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

Diablo 4 launched without WASD movement options for PC players and now‚ three seasons in‚ Blizzard is finally listening and responding to the community’s wish. If you aren’t excited about anything else coming in Diablo 4 Season 3‚ at least you can be excited for WASD movement. IS WASD movement in Diablo 4? Despite being loved by many at its launch‚ there wasn’t a small number of PC players who were upset about there being no WASD movement options in the beginning. From the start of the game until now‚ the only way to get around in Diablo 4 has been by clicking and/or holding the mouse button…or using a controller‚ but that takes away from the whole PC experience. Related: Diablo 4 Season 3: Release date and what to expect Many betas‚ the launch season‚ and two additional seasons later‚ Blizzard is finally putting WASD movement into Diablo 4. I’m not sure why this hasn’t been implemented much‚ much earlier‚ but at...

Season 3 of Diablo 4 is bringing along many new and exciting features such as The Gauntlet. But what is The Gauntlet‚ and how does it affect Season of the Construct? If you want a challenge that’ll have you coming back to Diablo 4 weekly‚ I recommend you keep reading to find out more. What is The Gauntlet in Diablo 4 Season of the Construct? Season of the Construct will have you exploring the depths of Kehjistan with your new robot friend to help you along the way. But another cool addition to Season 3 of Diablo 4 is The Gauntlet‚ which is a fixed dungeon that rotates weekly and will have you compete against other players in a leaderboard. If you like to see your name at the top of leaderboards‚ The Gauntlet is a perfect new challenge for you. Resetting weekly and bringing along the same challenge for each player‚ these Gauntlets should provide tough enemies and a race to the top of a competitive leaderboard. Image: Blizzard ...