The Social Deep Blog"Life is so much more than the white-washed perspective of some ID-driven ape." |
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Discretion Advised:
This short story contains depictions that may be disturbing to some readers. It may not be appropriate for readers under 18 years. | Horror | Thriller | Many people have their theories and opinions of me. I’m not unaware of some of the less than desirable qualities I am said to possess, but I also know many of them to be untrue. Truth be told I am a great many things, good and bad, and those many things are often mistaken one way or another. It is never my intention to hurt others, though I am well acquainted with the potential, unintended impact of things I have said and done. I am not free from the burden of the consequences of my mistakes, and I still make them. Mistakes. Everyone makes them, seemingly few take legitimate accountability. Too many, in wheeler shame and fear, make accusations that make them more comfortable in the aftermath of those mistakes. They give room for resentment and anger that they then cling to as means of protection against their own reflection, against…the truth.
This is an apology of sorts, for my unannounced absence last week. I worked tirelessly on a post in between trip preparation s and overtime at work, with the intention of scheduling the post Monday morning to be posted on Tuesday as planned. However, the universe had other plans for me and I have to say, I’m not all too upset about my impromptu hiatus. As luck would have it, I found myself essentially out of cellular service from early Monday morning until late Friday night; a full thirty-six hours without a cell tower in sight, with spotty, single-bar reception the rest of the trip. The disconnect was quite nice, to be perfectly frank.
While I am not sorry for the recent time I’ve spent outside of any service area, I am sorry I wasn’t better prepared prior to my departure. To any loyal reader, yes, but also to myself. I think sometimes I get so caught up in my emotions that I shut them put, so I can function, if for no other reason. It’s easy to give in to the numbness of apathy when emotions stand only to complicate the path from where one stands and where they strive to be, and its easy to get lost there. This is why self-care and the occasional hiatus is so crucial, even if it means ghosting everyone who knows you for a little while. I've embarked on a unique social experiment: writing to individuals behind bars. This journey wasn't about judgment or condemnation; it was about seeking understanding forging unexpected bonds, and exploring dark complexities of the human experience. I'll be sharing real-time updates on this project as it unfolds (which may take time), and I welcome your suggestions and feedback along the way.
If the Appalachia region has anything, it’s urban legends and stories of cryptids and creatures that lurk in the trees. These stories are made evermore eerie by the ruins and abandoned structures reclaimed by nature sprinkle throughout the hills. Somewhere between the skin walkers and mimics, there are stories of ghost towns with ominous histories. One such town, is Livermore, Pennsylvania.
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Sheena MonsterShe/They/Theirs 
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