text:
This is something I wrote a couple years ago. Sorry if it's longer that most of what's posted here. It's a little aimless and dry in my opinion, but I'd like to know what you think.

___________________________________________________________

	I woke up, 7am. There was a beautiful woman on one end of my bedroom, by the door. she wore a head     of chestnut hair, medium length, the same way she wore a lacy white top which I distinctly remember     picking out.  They flowed down and out and I thought of the word 'inertia' as she became my brief     and professional obsession.

	"come to bed." it was a suggestion, but I tried to sound confident enough for it to pass as a command.     she shook her head.

	"why not? I don't have anywhere to be." she repeated the gesture, where this time I had expected a     verbal response, looking out toward the window. My field of vision made the agonizing treck towards the window      and back again, empty.

	"I don't see anything."  which I couldn't, tainted by the damp emptiness which had settled and grown     outside my window, weeding up around my modest garden and killing my grass.  "What happened to my     flowers?"  I queried aloud as I watched a sort of muddy grey color infest the room like a swarm of locusts.      Again came the same lack of verbal response along with what I could assume may have been a shrug or other     ambiguous gesture, but could not be sure of.  I heard footsteps, the door closing.  I finally recognized    the music in the background as being Wagner.  It had started sometime before the total loss of    vision, and before finding my clock for the first time that morning.

	"89.5 KUPD, your local, listener supported classical music station. It's Monday, eleven fifteen A M, ninety     seven degrees, twenty four percent humidity.  This next one..."
	"eleven fifteen?" I could see everything with a drab clarity which  I could only attest to a more complete     consciousness.  There was no woman.  I was three hours late for work.  I checked my phone. One message, my boss.

	"don't bother coming in today."

	I was relieved and also nervous.  Although mostly relieved because I hated work.  It was unchallenging,     the building didn't smell very good usually and there were never any girls around.  Only middle aged men and     sometimes women, or older, looking for something that they felt entitled to, even if they didn't yet know the     name of it or exactly what it was.

	Not that I knew where the girls were.  I assumed school or their own jobs most of the time.  otherwise     maybe with their boyfriends or girlfriends.  sometimes I would catch one or two in a coffee shop.  I would     approach, and they would stare.  I'd sweat and make a fool of myself then leave.

	Once I got a number with that routine, we met up for dinner later but it didn't go anywhere.  I don't     remember if she was a bit dull or I was wearing a day old t-shirt.  I wanted to seem sensitive and not that I was     trying too hard.  Really, I was sore from quotes before the entrees came.  Dead Russian philosophers     was the theme of the night.

	Of course, that had been the latest event in my romantic life, 8 months earlier. By this time I would have     gladly listened to Dostoyevsky's famous one liners all day long if it meant I didn't have to masturbate     later.  Not that that could ever be a chore.

	After I'd been up for a while I decided on food.  I flipped a coin between a burger or chinese.  I thought of     a trapese artist as the coin flipped into the air. I wondered when the circus would be in town or I'll to     head to Vegas.  Heads, I thought about ordering the Kung Pao chicken from the place in the market.  It wasn't     the best but it was a better price than some of the sit down places.

	My friends were all working that day, so I had my meal alone at the tables outside the market.  It was hot     but the area was shaded. there was a television inside but it was turned to the right wing political news     station and I wasn't interested.  I watched the cars drive by.  There weren't too many of them. I     assumed they were in a hurry to get to work or pick something up or drop it off or to get home before their         show starts on tv.  Birds near me bouncing and picking at garbage.  One o'clock seems late to some people.  It     was still early and nothing to do.  I went for a swim and walked around the park several times, then it was     three.  There were men at the park playing basketball, which seemed like a simple sort of fun that wasn't meant for someone built like me.  I was thin and a little nervous with a bad haircut.  Anyway, sports     came across to me like an improvised dance.  I was too clumsy to dance, I would always rock back and forth and pretend that I knew what to do with my hands, but only if the music was right.  At the park that     day there was no music.

	I wandered home, defeated.  I spent the rest of the day reading and writing with Ike Quebec or Dexter     Gordon in the air and making my attempt at something I could compare to Bukowski or Hemingway or maybe     Burroughs.  I wanted my sentences to be short and punchy with dark paragraphs and hopeless characters.      They never were quite that way.  I lived in the suburbs, which was a sterile sort of community.  People  would     use their tongues to stop vomit at the sight of a cigarette butt on the sidewalk,     brown lettuce in their salad, or gum underneath the table.  I always thought the people I met were friendly     enough, but I never knew my neighbors and they didn't know me.  The people I did know didn't know their     neighbors either, or their neighbors them.

	I went for a walk that night, the stars were clearly visible and I got mugged underneath them like they     were watching the way my mother watches the Tonight Show.  I thought about a girl I once sat on a blanket     with smoking tobacco out of a hookah and watching the sky and chatting as if it was going to go     somewhere, and we were on our way to do or say something else but we didn't want to miss it. Though it was     evident things would be the same as long as we were there to watch.  He had a knife.  I had had three     dollars in my wallet and the bastard took the battery from my phone.  It was an old phone and I asked him for that back because it would be difficult to find again but he laughed and I felt silly.

	I showed up the next day, on time, for my job at a hardware store.  I was fired and sent home for not     having showed up the day before.  I made the excuse that my car wouldn't start but it didn't matter. this was     the third instance something could be held against me and the manager liked to make baseball analogies,     which were petty and dry but he never grew tired of them.

	I went home and listened to sad sounding music with my face buried in my pillow thinking about the female     coworker I may have been getting somewhere with who saw what happened and my face turn red.  I     stuttered while excusing myself which hadn't helped either.  I had a picture of her in my phone that I took     one day while she wasn't looking.  I hadn't found a new battery yet, so I rebuilt the image in my head     and masturbated then took a nap.

title: Last Day Off

question: Where does the narrator work at the time of the story?

answer: a hardware store

question: Why is the narrator fired from the hardware store?

answer: for failing to show up to work the previous day

question: Why does the mugger take the narrator's phone battery?

answer: the story does not answer this question

question: What writers does the narrator aspire to be like?

answer: Bukowski, Hemingway, and Burroughs

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator sleeps in to spend more time in bed with a woman and is told not t come in to work that day. That night he is mugged, and his phone battery is taken. The next day he goes in to work and is fired in front of a woman he is fond of. He goes home, thinks about his coworker, and masturbates.


split: train

text:
[The Iowa Capitol on March 23, 2016, a few minutes after sunrise.]
A bill introduced in the Iowa House of Representatives would require schools to get written parental consent before students could attend a state conference for gay and lesbian youth.

Republicans on the House Government Oversight Committee have made it a priority to investigate complaints that arose out of last year’s Iowa Governor’s Conference on LGBTQ Youth, which is intended to address bullying and promote education on other issues important to the gay and lesbian community.

Some have accused speakers at the event of using vulgar language and making sexually graphic presentations to students.

Committee chairman Rep. Bobby Kaufmann, R-Wilton, said the bill is a simple step to help ensure parents are kept in the loop and approve of the content their children are exposed to before they attend future conferences.

[State Rep. Ruth Ann Gaines]
But Rep. Ruth Ann Gaines, a Democrat from Des Moines and ranking member on the committee, called the bill “totally unnecessary,” because individual schools already get permission slips from students ahead of the conference, eventhough they aren't required to.

She said the bill is specifically intended to single out the LGBTQ community.

That accusation was echoed by Nathan Monson, executive director of Iowa Safe Schools, which organizes the conference. He said allegations of inappropriate content are not true.

“The bill is designed, frankly, to make sure that LGBTQ kids continue to be isolated, alone, discriminated against and afraid to be themselves,” he said. “It’s meant to ensure some of these kids can’t make it to the conference.”

[Rep. Bobby Kaufmann]
The event is privately run, but Kaufmann said the Legislature has the authority to weigh in because some tax dollars are indirectly used to support it.

“We don’t have the authority to regulate the content (of the conference),” he said. “We have the authority to make sure that parents can sign off on their kids being there. I’m irritated whenever I hear the word ‘private.’ Because it’s not Monopoly money that they use to bus the kids there, to pay for the registration, teacher salaries for the day, lack of time in the classroom. Those are tax dollars.”

Last year the conference attracted more than 1,000 people to Des Moines.

Among speakers who drew concern was Sam Killerman, a social justice comedian, who one teacher said gave advice to students about how to browse the Internet to find orgies and pornography.

She said the closing presenter was Coco Peru, the drag persona of American actor and comedian Clinton Leupp, who sang about how bullies should be poisoned.

Monson said this year the conference will continue to feature speakers about sexual health, as well as sessions focused on transgender hate crimes, LGBTQ Syrian refugees, and discussions about creating and sustaining Gay Straight Alliance clubs at Iowa schools.

"We haven’t changed any part of our formula here," he said. "We’re excited and we’re moving forward."

question: How long has the conference been in operation?

answer: Unclear

question: How many times have Iowa students attended in the past?

answer: Unclear

question: Was lewd content presented at the conference?

answer: Conflicting accounts exist.

question: Was the bill passed?

answer: Unclear

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: Iowa state senators debated the passing of a bill some say targeted LGBTQ youth. The bill required students to obtain permission slips in order to attend a conference geared toward supporting the queer community. Democratic senators pointed out that the bill was totally unnecessary as schools already require permission slips for attendance. In effect, the bill was designed to discourage participation. Republicans claimed lewd content was presented at the conference, other sources disagree.


text:
Since 1991, CIA ACTIVITIES IN SOMALIA have included funding anti-Islamist warlords, extraordinary renditions and most recently operating black sites.[1]

In November of 2020, MICHAEL GOODBOE, a senior CIA paramilitary officer, died of injuries sustained in a terrorist attack in Mogadishu, Somalia. Goodboe was a former member of the Navy’s SEAL Team 6 and belonged to the CIA's Special Activities Center. Goodboe's death will add another star on the memorial wall located inside the CIA’s headquarters in Virginia. The U.S. had around 700 troops in Somalia, assisting and working with local forces to defeat al-Shabaab the al-Qaeda-affiliated terrorist group. Al-Shabaab had an estimated 9,000 fighters. The terrorist organization has vowed to overthrow the Somali government, which is supported by some 20,000 troops from the African Union. [2][3]

Funding anti-Islamist warlords

The C.I.A. began a covert operation to arm and finance the warlords, who had united under the banner of the Alliance for the Restoration of Peace and Counterterrorism. Operated from the intelligence agency’s station in Nairobi, Kenya, the effort involved frequent trips to Mogadishu by case officers from the agency and paying hundreds of thousands of dollars to the warlords. When the payments to the warlords shifted the military balance of the country in their favor, the Islamists started a strike against the American-backed coalition and ran it out of Mogadishu.[4] Although the ICU was locally supported for having restored a relative level of peace[5] to the volatile region after having defeated the CIA-funded Alliance for the Restoration of Peace and Counter-Terrorism in the Second Battle of Mogadishu, concerns about the growth and popular support for an Islamic country during the United States' War on Terror led to a new approach of the intervention of CIA, the United States military and Ethiopia's dominantly Christian government.

Using local militias was seen as a way to avoid sending US troops. State Department officers, however, disapproved of the CIA effort, with one source saying “They were fully aware that they were doing so without any strategic framework,” the official said. “And they realized that there might be negative implications to what they are doing.” In 2006, Leslie Rowe, the deputy Chief of Mission in Kenya, signed off on a cable back to State Department headquarters that detailed grave concerns throughout the region about American efforts in Somalia. Around that time, State Department political officer, Michael Zorick, who had been based in Nairobi, was reassigned to Chad after he criticized, inside the government, Washington's policy of paying Somali warlords. The details of the American effort in Somalia are classified.

Somalia's interim president, Abdullahi Yusuf of the Transitional Federal Government (TFG), criticized American support for nongovernmental actors in May 2006, “We really oppose American aid that goes outside the government,” he said, arguing that the best way to hunt members of Al Qaeda in Somalia was to strengthen the country's government. Prendergast agrees the approach had some success, According his organization, militiamen loyal to warlord Mohammed Deere, a powerful figure in Mogadishu, caught a suspected Qaeda operative, Suleiman Abdalla Salim Hemed, in April 2003 and turned him over to American officials. Prendergast said “I've talked to people inside the Defense Department and State Department who said that this was not a comprehensive policy,” he said. “It was being conducted in a vacuum, and they were largely shut out.”

The official US position is to urge a return to peace talks by warring Somali factions, but some officials have also said an Ethiopian invasion could be the only factor to prevent the Islamic Courts Union (ICU) complete takeover of Somalia.[6] According to the ICG, Ethiopia only broke up only the most visible part of the ICU: the regional administrative authority in south central Somalia (including Mogadishu), which served essentially as a political platform for Hawiye clan interests. The militant Shabaab leadership, scattered throughout the country, threatening to wage a long war. A U.S. air strike on 8 January 2007 apparently wounded Aden Hashi ‘Ayro, a prominent Shabaab commander, and killed some of his guards but failed to destroy any top targets.

Drone strikes

In early January 2011, it was reported that the US, probably the CIA, hit its first target in Somalia with a drone strike. Recently, reporting from OSGEOINT suggests that this drone probably originated from Camp Lemmonier, Djibouti where engineers at the base constructed a dedicated drone support apron during the 2010-2011 period. The first strike in Somalia coincided with the confirmed deployment of a predator combat air patrol and a predator primary satellite link suggesting local command and control.[7]

Black sites

Jeremy Scahill in the August 2011 edition of the _Nation_ magazine reported on the CIA's compound at Mogadishu's Aden Adde International Airport. According to Scahill, “the facility looks like a small gated community, with more than a dozen buildings behind large protective walls and secured by guard towers at each of its four corners...At the facility, the CIA runs a counterterrorism training program for Somali intelligence agents and operatives aimed at building an indigenous strike force capable of snatch operations and targeted “combat” operations against members of Al Shabab.”[8] According to OSGEOINT, the construction of the CIA facility seems highly probable due to the other changes that have occurred around the airport since its reported construction. Open source satellite imagery shows wall-secured areas added, including a wall surrounding the entire airport as well as hardened access control points (ACPs). Between 20 July 2010 and 22 August 2011, AAIA has had much of the vegetation cleared off from the perimeter, guard towers added every quarter mile on the Northeast boundary (--more frequent on the Northwest), a towed artillery element deployed, as well as additional structures erected throughout the secured sections of the airfield. It also appears that an unknown donor (probably the US) is in the process of adding a parallel taxi-way to the main aircraft apron further enhancing the capacity of the airfield.[9]

[1]

[2] https://www.nytimes.com/2020/11/25/us/politics/cia-officer-somalia-death.html

[3] https://sofrep.com/news/senior-cia-officer-killed-during-combat-in-somalia/

[4]

[5]

[6] nyt2006-12-27

[7]

[8]

[9]

title: CIA activities in Somalia

question: According to the US State Department and other local African sources, what the implications of the CIA strategy of giving money to Somlai warlords who are against Islamists?

answer: CIA has been working alongside Somali warlords since 1991. The aim was to find warlords who are anti-Islamists and fund them to fight against al-Shabaab and al-Qaeda-affiliated terrorist groups. However, there are reports that the US State Department as well as some key personnel in Kenya are worried about the effect of these actions on the region. Some believe this funding might strengthen the warlords to the extent of fracturing any hope of a long-term peace in Somalia.


text:
'Why are you here? Have you not done enough? In just these past 48 hours, I have seen you take 26 lives. What more can you do to me? Do you want me to feel worse? Do you want to intensify the guilt? Are you here to remind me of all the hands I held as the life left them? I tried dammit, but it wasn't good enough!'

He appeared to me as a man dressed for business, suit tie, the works. It was nothing fancy, but his cuff-links sparkled, his tie was immaculate, and his suit pressed. He contrasted my dirty hospital scrubs in such a fashion that made him look even sharper. He turned slowly towards me, opening his suitcase. He pulled out a pack of smokes, Lucky Strikes. He gestured for me to take one, so I did. We both lit up, in a hospital elevator, in complete disregard for state and federal law. After a few drags, he spoke.

"You will never forget them. The image of the dying child will fade, but will still haunt your dreams, long into your future. You feel it, even now, as I speak, the weight of her head upon your chest as you wept. You will never forget."

"But I saved so many! I saved countless lives today, and yesterday, hell, for these past 6 years! Why must you remind me of my failures?"
Death's head was wrapped in a halo of blue smoke, as we both inhaled deeply through the filterless cigarettes. His face had not changed, not at all. Besides the movement of his mouth, nothing wavered.

"It's not about the ones you save. It's about the ones who slip by, the ones who pass. How many others did you see crying when the little girl died? Who else held the old widower's hand as he spoke to his long dead wife, until he joined her quietly? I'm not here to remind you of a failures. I'm here to thank you. You have helped the dead pass easily, comfortably into my realm. Beneath your caring hands, many souls have joined me quietly and calmly. Thank you, for soothing the doomed."

title: [MF] Elevator Music

question: What happened first chronologically: The first or the last paragraph?

answer: The last paragraph happens first chronologically.

question: Explain what the text means by souls joining death quietly and calmly.

answer: They were not raging against the light when Death took them. They were calm and quiet.

question: Summarize all the information relating to the narrator.

answer: The narrator feels guilty due to the lives he could not save, feels that he hasn't done his best. He meets Death in an elevator and they share a smoke. The narrator will never forget the people that dies while he held their hands. Death thanks him for calmly and quietly handing the dying people over.

question: Who killed 26 people in 48 hours?

answer: Death. The people died in a hospital and died.

question: Is Death a real person?

answer: No, not usually, although he presented himself in the story as an actual person.

question: Why does Death present himself as a businessman?

answer: It is unclear from the text.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator meets Death in an elevator after having lost 26 people in 48 hours. The narrator feels that he couldn't save them and feels guilty about it. Death thanks the narrator for allowing the people to die quietly and calmly and that they were not alone when they died.


text:
	Thrust into a world he knew nothing about, his face emotionless and blank, betrayed the multitude of nerved questions running through his mind. What world is this? What was he? Who was he? And most importantly, who was the figure that had held him so closely just a moment ago?  A glance at his surroundings revealed a dimly lit room, plain and empty apart from the desk scattered with paper, cloth, and art materials. The only curious item that caught his eyes was an hourglass of sand that hung on the wall. As he watched it intently, it turned upon itself and sand began to speckle the bottom of the glass clock.
	His appearance was similar to that of a doll, crudely made, with button eyes and hastily stitched threads that held his cotton body intact.  He was without extravagance but of course he knew nothing of extravagance or that he had naught but a few differing colors of cloth to assuage his rather ugly appearance.  In a struggle to move, he shakily attempted to stand and dragged his feet a few slow strides toward the desk. A book opened before him, without prompt, and showed a diagram of a puppet, one that looked very much like him. Lines and scratchings flanked the portrait and he ran his stubby fingers over the unreadable, complex writing.  He suddenly became aware of an urge to obtain this diagram, but in reality, however limited his definition of reality was. He wanted to hold it, just as the lost figure had done in his moment of inception. He did not know what seized his mind for such a longing but was guided by an ambiguous passion. He flipped through the pages of the book, each riddled with pictures of materials and further writing and arrows.
	He had discovered a purpose for his otherwise questionable existence and held this feeling close, afraid he may not have any other feeling, no hope or ambition or want to do anything else. Without word or thought, He began to work, pouring over the texts and collecting materials in the room. He began with the body, sewing, with shaky, unskilled fingers the cloth and eventually formed the stringy outline for her: his creation. In a flurry of threads, a blur of needles, and the push of subconscious loneliness, he worked, tirelessly.
	The result of his affection and effort was a dirty lump of threads and cloth stuffed with cotton that vaguely resembled Him. He had decided that the puppet was his accomplishment and he clutched her unmoving body in his hands, waiting for animation to occur. He sat in the desk’s chair for an indeterminable amount of time and stared at the hourglass on the wall, sand still draining from the top, but now nearly near empty. When she neither moved nor held him in his growing loneliness, he shuddered and began to shake violently with remorse and disgust for his existence.  He slumped to the frigid floor looking down on his hideous creation. With the cold of the room biting on his prior eagerness and the silent soliloquy of questions again running through his mind, he gave up. In grief and anguish, a single tear welled up on his button eye fell on her lifeless body.  A motion caught his attention as the puppet on the ground began to stir. A burst of warmth shot back into his body and he lifted her in his small ugly arms and held her close.  He looked up in time to see the last grain of sand flow from the hourglass. With a subtle smile of stitched yarn, he disintegrated into oblivion, leaving her alone. The hourglass rotated on itself and the sand began to trickle again.

title: Puppet Continuity

question: What is the main character?

answer: A puppet.

question: What does the main character do?

answer: Builds another puppet.

question: Who built the main character?

answer: A puppet.

question: What decides the span of the main character's life?

answer: An hourglass.

question: What do the last lines of the story signify?

answer: That the story repeats itself endlessly.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The story is about a puppet who awakens mysteriously in a room with instructions for how to build another puppet. The puppet builds the puppet and it comes to life at the very moment the first puppet dies. We are to understand the cycle repeats endlessly.


text:
[Chateau d'If view] [The Château d'If (close up)] [The Château d'If with Marseille in the background]

The CHÂTEAU D'IF is a fortress (later a prison) located on the island of If, the smallest island in the Frioul archipelago situated in the Mediterranean Sea about offshore in the Bay of Marseille in southeastern France. It is famous for being one of the settings of Alexandre Dumas' adventure novel _The Count of Monte Cristo_.

Island

Île d'If measures and is located west of the Old Port of Marseille. The entire island is heavily fortified; high ramparts with gun platforms surmount the cliffs that rise steeply from the surrounding ocean. Apart from the fortress, the island is uninhabited.[1]

Fortress

[1681 scale model of the château d'If]

The “château” is a square, three-story building long on each side, flanked by three towers with large gun embrasures. It was built in 1524–31 on the orders of King Francis I, who, during a visit in 1516, saw the island as a strategically important location for defending the coastline from sea-based attacks.[2]

The castle's principal military value was as a deterrent; it never had to fight off an actual attack. The closest that it came to a genuine test of strength was in July 1531, when Holy Roman Emperor Charles V made preparations to attack Marseille. However, he abandoned the invasion plan.

This might have been fortunate, given the weaknesses identified by military engineer Vauban in a scathing report in 1701: “The fortifications look like the rock, they are fully rendered, but very roughly and carelessly, with many imperfections. The whole having been very badly built and with little care... All the buildings, very crudely done, are ill made.”

The embalmed body[3] of general Jean Baptiste Kléber was repatriated to France after his assassination in Cairo in 1800. Napoleon, fearing that his tomb would become a symbol to Republicanism, ordered that the body stay at the château. It remained there for 18 years until Louis XVIII granted Kléber a proper burial in his native Strasbourg.[4]

Prison

[The cell named after Edmond Dantès at the Château d'If]

The isolated location and dangerous offshore currents of the Château d'If made it an ideal escape-proof prison, very much like the island of Alcatraz in California in more recent times. Its use as a dumping ground for political and religious detainees soon made it one of the most feared and notorious jails in France. Over 3,500 Huguenots (French Calvinists/identifying Christians) were sent to Château d'If, as was Gaston Crémieux, a leader of the Paris Commune, who was shot there in 1871.

The island became internationally famous in the 19th century when Alexandre Dumas used it as a setting for _The Count of Monte Cristo_, published to widespread acclaim in 1844. In the novel, the main character Edmond Dantès (a commoner who later purchases the noble title of Count) and his mentor, Abbé Faria, were both imprisoned in it. After fourteen years, Dantès makes a daring escape from the castle, becoming the first person ever to do so and survive. In reality, no one is known to have done this. The modern Château d'If maintains a roughly hewn dungeon in honour of Dantès as a tourist attraction.

As was common practice in those days, prisoners were treated differently according to their class and wealth. The poorest were placed at the bottom, being confined perhaps twenty or more to a cell in windowless dungeons under the castle. However, the wealthiest inmates were able to pay for their own private cells (or _pistoles_) higher up, with windows, a garderobe and a fireplace.

The château today

[Facial picture of If Castle] [Tourists explore the château's courtyard]

The château's use as a prison ceased at the end of the 19th century. It was demilitarized and opened to the public on 23 September 1890. It can be reached by boat from Marseille's old port. Its fame comes from the setting for Dumas' novel, _The Count of Monte Cristo_. This fame has made the prison a popular tourist destination.

Mark Twain visited the château in July 1867 during a months-long pleasure excursion. He recounts his visit in his book, _The Innocents Abroad_. He says a guide took his party into the prison, which was not yet open to the public, and inside the cells, one of which he says housed the “Iron Mask”. There is a sign at the château that says “Prison dite de l'Homme au Masque de Fer” (“Said to be the prison of the Man in the Iron Mask”), but this is likely only legend since the famed Man in the Iron Mask was never held at the Château d'If.

The Château d'If is listed as a _monument historique_ by the French Ministry of Culture.[5]

In fictional works

[Château d'If was represented by Saint Mary's Tower in the 2002 film _The Count of Monte Cristo_]

-   The Château d'If is famous for being one of the settings of Alexandre Dumas' adventure novel _The Count of Monte Cristo_. However, other locations have been used to represent Château d'If in film adaptations of the work. In the 2002 adaptation starring Jim Caviezel, the château was represented by Saint Mary's Tower on Comino, the smallest inhabited Maltese island. The cliff-top watchtower can be seen from the ferry crossing between Malta and Gozo.
-   _Chateau d'If_ is the title of a 1949 short story written by Jack Vance (previously published as _New Bodies For Old_).[6]
-   The fortress was used as the location where Alain Charnier a.k.a. Frog One (Fernando Rey) meets Devereaux (Frédéric de Pasquale) to finalise the drugs shipment to the United States in the 1971 crime film _The French Connection_.
-   In the 1956 “Tales of Old Dartmoor” episode of _The Goon Show_ radio comedy series, Grytpype-Thynne has Dartmoor Prison put to sea to visit the Château d'If, as part of a plan to find the treasure of the Count of Monte Cristo.
-   In _The Ruby Notebook_ by Laura Resau, Zeeta and Wendell visit the Château d'If.
-   In the Clive Cussler novel _Spartan Gold_, the main characters visit the Château d'If as part of their quest for hidden treasure.

Notable prisoners

-   Chevalier Anselme (1580–?)
-   Jean Serres, Huguenot
-   Élie Neau, Huguenot
-   Chevalier de Lorraine, lover of Philippe de France
-   , accused of bringing the plague to Marseille (c. 1720 – c. 1723)

-   Honoré Mirabeau, writer, popular orator and statesman (1774–1775)
-   Abbé Faria (1797–?); his stay at the château is disputed
-   Michel Mathieu Lecointe-Puyraveau, politician (1815)
-   Gaston Crémieux, a leader of the Paris Commune (1871)

Contrary to common belief, the Marquis de Sade was not a prisoner at the château.[7]

[1]

[2]

[3] Cimetières de France et d’ailleurs .

[4] Jean Paul Baillard. _Kléber après Kléber (1800–2000)—Les pérégrinations posthumes des restes du général Kléber_ . .

[5]

[6]

[7] Château d'If – Between Myth and Reality "

title: Château d'If

question: What would have happened to Château d'If if Charles V didn't abandon his invasion plans?

answer: The castle was built to help against naval invasions, and it would've been the vanguard of the French defense against ships. However, it could've perished easily due to its lackluster walls, eventually proving to be nothing more than a nuisance against the invaders.

question: What makes the Château d'If a suitable location for Alexandre Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo?

answer: It's a castle-turned-prison on an isolated island, which is a great setup for daring escape stories.

question: What are the tourism-related attractions of Château d'If?

answer: It's an ancient castle, offering a glimpse into the architecture and culture of an era centuries in the past. Its positioning is also unique, which offers novelty.


text:
Rev. Dr. L. RONALD DURHAM is an American civil right activist, pastor and a Baptist minister from Daytona Beach Florida. He has been a pastor at Greater Friendship Baptist Church in Daytona Beach, Florida, leader of local National Action Network and has been in ministry for thirty-eight years.[1]

Early life

Raised by his grandparents from birth, he learned early that if you want things in life you have to work for them. His grandparents were of meager means and he wanted to have the same nice clothes as some of his classmates.

Keeping the family earnings in mind he wasn't sure that he would be able to attend any college or university, but everything occurred in a messianic way. He attended Shaw University in Raleigh, North Carolina for four years on a full scholarship provided to him by a complete stranger. From Shaw University, he went on to Evangel Christian University in Monroe, Louisiana where he earned his Doctoral degree.[2]

Activism

He has been an active activist and raised voice against the wrongdoings and injustices at a broader level. He met the Rev. Al Sharpton during a protest of racial profiling on the New Jersey Turnpike by the State Police and he has been working together with Sharpton for two decades.[3]

Durham along with Rev. Sharpton organized the rally held at Fort Mellon Park in Sanford, Florida on March 21st, 2012 after the slaying of young Trayvon Martin by George Zimmerman. Working with local churches, Durham selected the park as the location after meeting with Sanford city officials. It was estimated that more than 30,000 people from all over the United States and visitors from around the world were in attendance. The demonstration was peaceful and no irregularity was seen, even the traffic patterns were not disrupted.[4]

President of Volusia County Democratic Black Caucus

Durham was elected as president of Volusia County Democratic Black Caucus. As a new president, he stated his commitment to the people that their voices would be heard. He said that Volusia County Democratic Black Caucus has been very functional in highlighting the issues of the community and he would play his part in this regard, keeping this fact in mind that community's interest would be the superior of all other interests.

Addressing the conference Durham said that voter education is necessary because without this neither the party nor the caucus will be able to address the issues like poverty, rights of women, civil rights, healthcare, and affordable housing. During his speech, he said that balance of power is necessary and it would only be possible if we succeed in educating the voters regarding the value of their votes. He further said that selection of a right candidate and reaching the millennial is more important and we need to focus on these things.[5]

Sports connection

In 1988, Durham and his wife were the hosts of the National Baseball Card Collectors Convention at the Convention Center in Atlantic City, New Jersey. Some of the guests included Joe DiMaggio, Pete Rose, Booby Thompson, Ralph Branca, and other baseball greats.[6]

Achievements

In 2011, Dr. Durham was the first African-American pastor in pray before the start of the Daytona 500 race at Daytona International Speedway in Daytona Beach, Florida.

He started assistance programs that provide free food and clothing to anyone in need and created Friendship Academy. The academy is a childcare learning center for preschoolers that are going to gradually add kindergarten through fifth-grade classes.[7]

Dr. Durham is the author of “The Secret Power of Prayer” published by the Sunday School Publishing Board in Nashville, TN. He has served as president of Daytona Beach Black Clergy Alliance, an organization whose purpose and objectives revolve around the civic and civil rights issues. He is also the past co-chairman of the FAITH (Fighting Against Injustice Toward Harmony).[8]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]  Headline Surfer - Serving Greater Daytona Beach-Orlando, FL|website=headlinesurfer.com|access-date=2016-12-24}}

title: Ronald Durham

question: Summarize Ronald Durham's early life.

answer: Durham was raised by his grandparents from birth. He attended Shaw University in Raleigh, North Carolina on a scholarship provided to him by a complete stranger. He then received his Doctoral degree from Evangel Christian University in Monroe, Louisiana.

question: What is the National Action Network?

answer: That information can't be found.

question: What causes did Ronald Durham support as an activist?

answer: He attended a protest of racial profiling, where he met Rev. Al Sharpton, whom he proceded to work with for two decades. He organized a rally after the slaying of Trayvon Martin.

question: What was Ronald Durham's connection to sports?

answer: He and his wife hosted the National Baseball Card Collectors Convention in 1988.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: Ronald Durham is an American civil rights activist, pastor, and Baptist minister from Daytona Beach, Florida. As an activist, he protested racial profiling. He was also elected president of the Volusia County Democratic Black Caucus and is the leader of the National Action Network.


text:
THE BOOK OF DAVE

     In the beginning, Dave created a bunch of stuff like the earth, water, animals, and humans. He thought "Meh, it's cool I guess...", and then he pretty much sat back and watched everything unfold, chillin' like a villain and taking many forms. Mostly though he liked to be a plastic dove. He saw all his creations screw up the world he created, and it pissed him off pretty badly. He thought for centuries about how he could save the world he put so little effort into creating.

     One day, in the late 1990's he came up with a plan. It was about time too, because the world he created was in pretty pitiful condition by this time. He set out to create 5 strong men who would spread his holy name. One of them appearing to be a heretic, but obviously a believer. One of them a natural born leader to guide the prophets. One of them tall and strong willed and convert others. One of them with great musical talents with which to sing and play instruments in the name of Dave, and the last one. Dave's only son. He arranged so that these men would one day come together and use their own talents to spread the word of Dave.

     These young men grew and realized their talents (except for the son of Dave, who had a hard time because he had not yet recognized his true purpose in life). They misused their talents, however, because they did not know that their destiny was the destiny that Dave set for them. They would know in the future that Dave needed them to rid the world of ignorance and stupidity. It would take time, though, for them to be ready for the task at hand.

     By the time these 5 young men were ready for their destiny, the world was even worse than it was before. There had been terrorist attacks, wars, destruction in massive proportions. They were indeed ready at the last minute. The 5 boys had grown to be good friends, and were like family. One day, fate brought them all together, and set them on a journey that would open their eyes to the truth. Open their eyes to Dave.

    They found themselves in their leader's house, discussing the most important of current events, politics, economics, history, and other things of the like. Then, as fate may have it, they embarked on a journey. They started with a trip to a local general store to purchase liquid refreshment, and to win the heart of a fair maiden. They failed miserably at the winning the heart part, but succeeded in buying refreshments. They also caused the son of Dave to smudge a dipping sauce on his trousers. They then headed to a larger store to buy him a new pair of trousers.

     They failed in their quest to acquire new trousers, but had good hearty laughs and made the son wear clothes meant for girls. However, it was here that they discovered The Great Dave. They found him in his usual form, a plastic bird, perched upon a raised surface. They were drawn to him, and immediately knew that it was to be theirs. They did not know why, but they knew it must be.

     They purchased the plastic bird, took him home, and immediately idolized him. They knew that his name was to be Dave, and that he was of great importance. The boys did not truly understand that Dave was of much more importance until much later. The day after their trip to the store, their land was ice-ridden. The plants outside were enveloped in a solid sheet of ice, and the roads were only traversible by foot, because none of their automobiles were equipped to operate on the ice-covered roads.

     The young men grew hungry, and weary of being held inside their home, and by the will of Dave, which they still failed to recognize, decided to embark on a long journey to obtain cheap, delicious food. They left their home and started down the road, talking and laughing, unaware of the great events that awaited them. They would soon find out the true purpose of what was happening.

     They noticed a bird that looked exactly like their plastic bird that was perched upon a telephone wire. Then they realized that this, in fact, WAS their bird, but in the form of a living version of it's plastic form, guarding them, and guiding them. They then began to realize that they had a greater purpose in this journey, and that Dave was more than a mere plastic bird.

     They began to have revelations and realizations that Dave placed in their minds. They came to the conclusion that Dave was the true God, and that they were prophets, since they were the only ones who realized this truth. They then realized that the one with no apparent useful talent must have been the son of Dave, because of the hardships he faced and trials and tribulations. They realized that since he had no talent to offer Dave, he didn't require one, because him simply being among the other prophets was enough to please Dave.

     Then came their true sign that they were led by The Great and Powerful Dave. They noticed on the side of the path a beautiful sight. A useless, disappointing, fresh, beautiful sight. They knew in their hearts that Dave put this there for them, that he loved them, and that he wanted them to cleanse the world of the wrongness that had befallen it.

title: The Book of Dave

question: Is Dave God?

answer: Maybe.

question: What might suggest that Dave is God?

answer: He allegedly made everything in the beginning.

question: What are the young men tricked by?

answer: They think a plastic bird is Dave only to have the real Dave be revealed as the bird on the line.

question: What had Dave wanted from the young men all along?

answer: To cleanse the world.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: Someone named Dave has created everything in the world, but is disappointed by it, so by the 1990s, he decides to create five young men. It is not until they come to his home and mistake a plastic bird for Dave the real bird that they understand everything Dave has been trying to teach them.


text:
The Walt Disney Company is reportedly in talks to purchase most of 21st Century Fox, according to CNBC.

According to the report, talks have been taking place for Disney to buy most of the company, not including the news and sports assets.

While talks have been taking place over the last several weeks, there no guarantee that there will be a deal. The report says that talks have ceased for the time being, but that the entire conversation has been on again and off again for some time.

The deal would specifically include 20th Century Fox, 21st Century Fox's movie studio. The deal could then reunite Marvel's X-Men and Fantastic Four with the characters currently existing in the Marvel Cinematic Universe and could bring the rights to the home release of the theatrical cut of Star Wars to the same company that owns Lucasfilm.

Fox senior management is reportedly leaning towards a tighter focus on news and sports for the multimedia company to more effectively compete in those spaces.

As the article speculates, 21st Century Fox is simply not a big enough media company to able to compete in the changing entertainment landscape that has developed as a result of the rise of streaming companies like Netflix and Amazon.

Since Disney is prohibited from owning two broadcast companies, the deal would not include the Fox broadcast network, but it would include cable networks FX and National Geographic. The deal would also not include Fox Sports, as the purchase could be seen as anti-competitive for the sake of antitrust laws.

0comments
Disney has already acquired a massive media library that includes the Marvel and Star Wars universe. The purchase of 21st Century Fox would also bring the X-Men movie franchise under that umbrella, for Disney to do with as they see fit, as well as the Alien film franchise.

The X-Men movies franchise is currently booming, with spinoffs _Deadpool_ and _Logan_ generating high box office take and critical acclaim. The franchise will expand further in 2018 with _The New_ _Mutants, Deadpool 2_, and _X-Men: Dark Phoenix_, and even further in 2019 with the _Gambit_ movie.

question: Why is the Walt Disney Company trying to purchase 21st Century Fox?

answer: Not answered

question: What would be included in the deal?

answer: The deal would include 20th Century Fox, 21st Century Fox's movie studio. It would also include the cable networks FX and National Geographic.

question: What would not be included in the deal?

answer: The deal would not include the Fox broadcast network, or Fox Sports.

question: Why is 21st Century Fox considering this deal?

answer: Fox senior management wants to focus more closely on news and sports in order to more effectively compete in those spaces.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The Walt Disney Company is reportedly in talks to purchase a large portion of 21st Century Fox. The deal would include 20th Century Fox, the movie studio arm of the company, as well as the cable networks FX and National Geographic. However, it would not include Fox' s broadcast or sports network, due to antitrust laws that considers certain purchases to be anti-competitive.


text:
[]

Billionaire founder of Insys Therapeutics John Kapoor leaves U.S. District Court after being arrested earlier Thursday in Phoenix. Kapoor and other defendants in the fraud and racketeering case are accused of offering bribes to doctors to write large numbers of prescriptions for a fentanyl-based pain medication meant only for cancer patients with severe pain. ROSS D. FRANKLIN/AP HIDE CAPTION

TOGGLE CAPTION

 Ross D. Franklin/AP

[]

Billionaire founder of Insys Therapeutics John Kapoor leaves U.S. District Court after being arrested earlier Thursday in Phoenix. Kapoor and other defendants in the fraud and racketeering case are accused of offering bribes to doctors to write large numbers of prescriptions for a fentanyl-based pain medication meant only for cancer patients with severe pain.

 Ross D. Franklin/AP

On the same day President Trump declared the opioid epidemic a public health emergency, the co-founder of a prominent opioid medication manufacturer has been arrested on fraud and racketeering charges. John Kapoor, former CEO of Insys Therapeutics, has been charged with conspiring to push the company's signature drug for unacceptable uses through a series of bribes and kickbacks.

Subsys, as the drug is known, transmits the extremely powerful narcotic fentanyl in spray form, allowing it to be placed beneath the tongue for fast, potent pain relief. It is meant only for treating cancer patients suffering from severe pain.

But according to prosecutors, Kapoor and several other former high-ranking executives at the company conspired to bribe doctors to write "large numbers of prescriptions for the patients, most of whom were not diagnosed with cancer." They also allegedly "conspired to mislead and defraud health insurance providers who were reluctant to approve payment for the drug when it was prescribed for non-cancer patients."

Forbes reported last year on some of the legal questions around the company and the pharmaceutical entrepreneur:

  "In 2015 a nurse practitioner in Connecticut pleaded guilty to violating a federal antikickback statute by taking money from Insys to prescribe the drug to Medicare patients who did not have cancer. A former Insys sales representative in Alabama also pleaded guilty to a conspiracy to violate the antikickback statute by paying two doctors to prescribe the drug. Illinois has filed claims against Insys related to pushing Subsys for unapproved uses. U.S. attorneys in two jurisdictions — the Central District of California and the District of Massachusetts — are investigating the company. Doctors who have worked with the company are being investigated by Michigan, Florida, Kansas, New Hampshire, Rhode Island and New York."

As Reuters reports, Kapoor stepped down as chief executive in January.

"In the midst of a nationwide opioid epidemic that has reached crisis proportions," acting U.S. Attorney William D. Weinreb said in a statement, "Mr. Kapoor and his company stand accused of bribing doctors to overprescribe a potent opioid and committing fraud on insurance companies solely for profit.

"Today's arrest and charges reflect our ongoing efforts to attack the opioid crisis from all angles," Weinreb added.

Kapoor was arrested in Arizona, where Insys is based, and his indictment was filed in federal court in Boston.

Prosecutors say the charges of conspiracy to commit racketeering and conspiracy to commit mail and wire fraud each carry a maximum sentence of up to 20 years in prison. Conspiracy to violate the anti-kickback law carries a possible penalty of up to five years in prison.

question: What makes the timing of the arrest appropriate?

answer: The arrest happened on the same day President Trump declared the opiod epidemic to be a public health emergency.

question: Why might non-cancer patients want the drug?

answer: Because it contains fentanyl, which provides potent pain relief.

question: What was Kapoor's motivation for fraud and racketeering?

answer: To make money

question: What is the total maximum amount of years in prison Kapoor can be charged with for all of his charges combined?

answer: 45


text:
WALTER BRADLEY (born September 29, 1945) is a Canadian politician. He represented 2nd Kings in the Legislative Assembly of Prince Edward Island from 1989 to 1996 as a Liberal.[1]

Bradley was born in 1945 in St. Theresa's, Prince Edward Island.[2] He married Florence Kelly in 1968.[3] Bradley graduated from the University of Prince Edward Island with a Bachelor of Education degree, and from Dalhousie University with a master's degree in education.[4] He was a teacher by career, and later was principal of Morell Regional High School.[5]

Bradley entered provincial politics in 1989, when he was elected a councillor for the electoral district of 2nd Kings.[6] He was re-elected in the 1993 election.[7] On April 15, 1993, Bradley was appointed to the Executive Council of Prince Edward Island as Minister of Agriculture, Fisheries and Forestry.[8] In the 1996 election, Bradley was defeated by Progressive Conservative Kevin MacAdam in the new Morell-Fortune Bay riding.[9]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

title: Walter Bradley (Canadian politician)

question: When was Bradley born?

answer: September 29, 1945

question: What party was Bradley in from 1989 to 1996?

answer: Liberal

question: Where did Bradley get his master's degree?

answer: Dalhousie University

question: Who is Bradley's wife?

answer: Florence Kelly

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: Walter Bradley is a Canadian politician who represented 2nd Kings in the Legislative Assembly of Prince Edward Island from 1989 to 1996 as a Liberal. He was born in 1945 and obtained his master's degree in education from Dalhousie University.


text:
The NATIONAL COAL BOARD LABOUR STAFF ASSOCIATION (LSA) was a trade union representing workers at the National Coal Board in the United Kingdom.

The National Coal Board was established in the mid-1940s, on the nationalisation of coal mining in the United Kingdom. Most of its staff were former members of the National Union of Mineworkers (NUM), but the NUM did not feel it was appropriate to represent National Coal Board staff, while the majority of workers were reluctant to join the British Association of Colliery Management (BACM), which they felt was opposed to the labour movement and too closely aligned with senior management.[1]

In 1947, Ebby Edwards worked with the un-unionised staff to establish the “National Coal Board Labour Staff Association”, which immediately affiliated to the Labour Party and the Trades Union Congress. It advocated equal pay between its members and other civil servants, and this was soon achieved. Although it faced competition for members from the BACM, it remained the larger union in the department and retained official recognition until about 1970, but had to allow the BACM to take the lead on negotiations on pay and conditions. It then decided to try to negotiate separately, but this led to derecognition, and membership fell to around 200 by 1971, when it reluctantly merged into the BACM.[2]

[1] Arthur Marsh and Victoria Ryan, _Historical Directory of Trade Unions_, vol.1, p.145

[2]

question: When was the National Coal Board Labor Staff Association established?

answer: The association was established in the mid-1940s.

question: Who was representing the LSA?

answer: Most of the staff were former members of the National Union of Mineworkers.

question: Who formed the Association?

answer: Ebby Edwards.

question: Who did the association merge with?

answer: They merged with the British Association of Colliery Management.

question: Write a ~6 sentence summary.

answer:
The National Coal Board Labor Staff Association was a union representing workers at the National Coal Board in the U.K. The trade union was established sometime in the mid-1940s. Most of its staff were former NUM members.

In 1947, Ebby Edwards worked with un-unionized staff to form the association which immediately affiliated with the Labor Party and the Trades Union Congress. They faced a lot of competition from the British Association of Colliery Management. They eventually reluctantly merged with them.


text:
SANTIAGO is one of three parishes in Sariego, a municipality within the province and autonomous community of Asturias, in northern Spain. The parish church is the Iglesia de Santiago el Mayor (Sariego).

It is in size, with a population of 694 (INE 2005).

Villages and hamlets

-   Berros
-   La Carcavá
-   La Cuesta
-   Llamasanti
-   Moral
-   Ñora
-   Pedrosa
-   El Rebollal
-   Santianes
-   La Vega

Category:Parishes in Sariego

title: Santiago (Sariego)

question: What is the parish church called?

answer: The Iglesia de Santiago el Mayor

question: Where is Santiago located?

answer: It is located in the community of Asturias in northern Spain.

question: Name 3 of Santiago's villages and hamlets.

answer: La Cuesta, Nora, and Pedrosa

question: What is the population?

answer: 694

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: This article discusses Santiago, one of the three parishes in Sariego. It is located in the community of Asturias in northern Spain with a population of 694.


text:
but it is too long to put on reddit is there another way I can post it on reddit without using the text box?
I would love to show him feedback on his short story!

title: I have a short story my friend wrote which is amazing!

question: Write a ~0 sentence summary.


text:
She opened her eyes, and all she saw was a searing white light. She felt a biting cold metallic surface beneath her. She was laying down, in a metal room with only one door; a heavy, solid metal door. The florescent lights: the searing light, buzzing incessantly above her. They were driving her mad. She suddenly felt a pool of warmth beneath her head; blood. It was bleeding. To her relief it was only a slight trickle. To her horror there was a large dried pool of blood below her. A few drops trailed off to the opposite end of the room. And she saw him.

Lying there on the floor, opposite to her was a man. She saw no blood around him, but saw blood on his hands. Lying between them were a syringe and a keycard. The syringe was empty; what was in it? She wondered. Did he attack me? What is this place? Why am I here? Why can't I remember? She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember anything at all; who she was, where she was, and why she was here. She couldn't remember; and she was afraid. Did he lock me in this room for something I did? Was this man a guard at this facility? Or were this man's intentions more...malignant? She didn't want to know. She wanted to get out; she had to get out. She had to find some answers.

She stood up and made her way towards the door, still slightly ajar. As she approached the threshold, she noticed a camera. What is this place she thought and what is it for? She left into the hallway, and stared down its sterile walls, glistening in the white light. There were more cells, but there was silence. She was unsure of whether that was a good sign or not. She made for the door at the end of the hallway; it looked different from the rest, perhaps it wasn't a cell, perhaps it was a way out. She hoped it was. When she reached the door, her heart sank; it was locked.

The key card in the room! It was the only thing she had to go on, the only ray of light in her frightening nightmare. Feeling hopeful, she raced to the end of the hall for the key card. When she reached the cell she had awoken in, she entered and made her way for the card, not noticing that the man had woken up, and was watching her. As she goes to leave the room, she hears an unsettling, animalistic growl. She turns back to see the man, crouching, staring at her with a predator's gaze. Looking closer at his eyes, she notices that his eyes are a yellowish color; like a cat's eyes. His nails had sharpened, and were more like claws. What was in that syringe? Was he planning on doing that to me?

Suddenly, the feral beast leaped. Thinking quickly, she pulled the door closed just in time. She started to run down the hall and then she heard that noise. The feral creature let out a sickening roar. The nightmarish noise paralyzed her with fear. For an eternity, she could not move, could not think, could not breath. What made her move wasn't fear of the beast behind her. It was the new sounds she heard. The other cells were alive with movement; something was lurking behind their walls. With an ever deepening sense of terror, she ran towards the door, inserted the key card, and turned the handle; the door opened. The minuscule amount of relief she felt was extinguished when she heard the footfalls of the beast. Without even looking, she went through the door and into the new room. She turned and closed the door, seeing the beast lunge forward, more feral in appearance than before, just in time for it to crash into the closed door. She was safe, for now.

Turning to examine the room, she saw monitors. Monitors that showed the horrors in the other cells. Creatures that lurked and prowled with vicious intent. Creatures that writhed and squirmed in agonizing pain. This facility...was for experimentation on human beings. Just who the hell are these people? What are they doing? What are these vile bastards doing to these poor people? Sitting down, she started to go through some notes lying on the table. They were of someone named Dr. Moreau. This despicable person wrote about these people, his "patients" with no empathy, no remorse. He was now one of his own experiments.

"Doctor, are you there? The Colonel is waiting for the latest results of your testing." It was a man's voice on the other side of the door opposite from the one with the cells. She sat frozen with fear. What would happen to her when he found out what happened to the doctor, that he had become one of his pets? "Doctor? I'm coming in..." The door slowly opened, and a man wearing heavily padded, black colored clothing came in. He was holding a gun. When he stepped into the room, he raised it and fired. At that moment, a life was silenced.
But it was not hers...

Lowering his weapon, he turned to her and said, "Your bleeding, come with me to the infirmary." When she didn't respond, didn't even breath, he said it. Those words which shattered her utterly and will haunt her for the rest of her days. It was just a simple question, yet it implied so much.

"Doctor Moreau, are you alright?"

title: This was a short story I wrote for a high school English class. I was told by my teacher that it was well written, but I would like some criticism from you guys and gals. (This story is about 5-6 years old) [Battle Not With Monsters]

question: Did Dr Moreau inject the beast that became feral?

answer: The story would imply so. Perhaps he was trying to stop her experiments

question: Did she know about the key card because it was hers?

answer: This is possible but it is also possible that she was making an assumption or just desperate enough to try anything

question: Who was shot when the man came in the door?

answer: Possibly the beast

question: Why can the doctor remember nothing?

answer: Perhaps they have done something to her and perhaps she isn't Doctor Moreau at all

question: Write a ~26 sentence summary.

answer:
She wakes to the searing light, the cold metal surface beneath her. She feels a pool of blood beneath her head, just a slight trickle. There was a trail of blood moving away from a large pool of dried blood beneath her. Lying opposite her, a man with blood on his hands. Between them a syringe and a key card.

She can’t remember anything at all – who she is, where she is or why. She is afraid. She has to get out. She passes along a passage, at the end a door different from the cell doors. She heads back to the cell where she woke. She wants to collect the card key. As she leaves, she hears a predatory growl. The man is crouching staring at her. His nails are sharpened and his eyes feral. What was in the syringe?

Creatures in the cells are starting to move. She runs for the door. She inserts the key card and turns the handle. The door opens.

Monitors around the room show the horrors in the cells. The facility is for human experimentation. Notes on the table are written by Doctor Moreau. He is now one of his experiments.

She thinks that Dr Moreau has turned into a beast. A man enters with a gun. He is killed by another who refers to her as Dr Moreau.


text:
_SUDDEN STRIKE 4_ is a real-time tactics video game set in the World War II. It is the fifth game in the _Sudden Strike_ series and the fourth standalone release.[1] It is the first game developed by Kite Games, a collaboration of industry veteran game developers.[2] Originally, it was scheduled to be released for PC and PlayStation 4 on June 27, 2017;[3] but was delayed until August 11, 2017 and August 15, 2017 for PC and PlayStation 4, respectively.[4]

Gameplay

The single-player mode features 3 campaigns (German, Allied or Soviet) with over 20 missions and modding support is planned. Each of the missions in the different campaigns are based on real life World War II battles/invasions. For example, in the German campaign the player commands the Wehrmacht in the Battle of France, Operation Barbarossa, the Battle of Stalingrad, the Battle of Kursk and the Battle of the Bulge. The Invasion of Poland is used as a tutorial for the game and also acts as a prelude to the German campaign. Post-release DLCs features additional campaigns set in other theatres such as North African campaign, Winter War, Battle of Dunkirk and Pacific War.

Strategy is heavily based on those of its predecessors with a focus on the unique characteristics and skills of limited units instead of resource gathering and base building. Reinforcements will still play a role in the game, but they are scripted and predictable.[5] The game will also introduce skill trees and commander roles with famous World War II generals such as George Patton, Heinz Guderian, Bernard Montgomery, Omar Bradley or Georgy Zhukov.[6]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

title: Sudden Strike 4

question: What platforms can Sudden Strike 4 be played on?

answer: PC and PlayStation 4.

question: Describe the gameplay of Sudden Strike 4.

answer: The single-player mode features 3 campaigns based on real World War II battles and invasions.

question: When was Sudden Strike 4 released?

answer: It was released August 11, 2017 on PC and August 15, 2017 on PlayStation 4.

question: Who was Heinz Guderian?

answer: A World War II general.

question: Who is the developer for Sudden Strike 4?

answer: Kite Games

question: What genre of game is Sudden Strike 4?

answer: Sudden Strike 4 is a real-time tactics game.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: Sudden Strike 4 is a real-time tactics video game released in August 2017 and developed by Kite Games. The game is set during World War II, and the single-player campaign features missions based on real World War II battles and invasions.


text:
RHACHIBEROTHIDAE, sometimes called THORNY LACEWINGS, are a family of winged insects in the order Neuroptera. The family has only 14 extant species in 4 genera found in Sub-Saharan Africa, but has a diverse fossil record extending back to the Early Cretaceous in Lebanon (then part of North Gondwana), Eurasia and North America.[1]

Long included in the Berothidae (beaded lacewings), they are usually considered a separate family by current authors. Another closely related group are the mantidflies (Mantispidae), and at least some of the probably paraphyletic group of fossil forms collectively called “Mesithonidae” also seem to be quite close.

Taxonomy

-   Rhachiberothidae Tjeder, 1959
    -   †Paraberothinae Nel _et al_., 2005
        -   †_Acanthoberotha_ Nakamine et al, 2020 Burmese amber, Cenomanian
        -   †_Albertoberotha_ McKellar & Engel, 2009 Canadian amber, Campanian
        -   †_Alboberotha_ Nel _et al_., 2005 Charentese amber, France, Cenomanian
        -   †_Astioberotha_ Nakamine et al, 2020 Burmese amber, Cenomanian
        -   †_Chimerhachiberotha_ Nel _et al_., 2005 Lebanese amber, Barremian
        -   †_Creagroparaberotha_ Makarkin, 2015 Burmese amber, Cenomanian
        -   †_Eorhachiberotha_ Engel, 2004 Burmese amber, Cenomanian
        -   †_Kujiberotha_ Nakamine & Yamamoto, 2018 Kuji amber, Japan, Santonian
        -   †_Micromantispa_ Shi _et al_., 2015 Burmese amber, Cenomanian
        -   †_Paraberotha_ Whalley, 1980 Lebanese amber, Barremian
        -   †_Raptorapax_ Petrulevicius _et al_., 2010 Lebanese amber, Barremian
        -   †_Retinoberotha_ Schlüter, 1978 Bezonnais amber, France, Cenomanian
        -   †_Rhachibermissa_ Grimaldi, 2000 New Jersey amber, Turonian
        -   †_Scoloberotha_ Engel & Grimaldi, 2008 Burmese amber, Cenomanian
        -   †_Spinoberotha_ Nel _et al_., 2005 Lebanese amber, Barremian
        -   †_Stygioberotha_ Nakamine et al, 2020 Burmese amber, Cenomanian
        -   †_Uranoberotha_ Nakamine et al, 2020 Burmese amber, Cenomanian
    -   Rhachiberothinae Tjeder, 1959
        -   _Hoelzeliella_ Aspöck & Aspöck, 1997
        -   _Mucroberotha_ Tjeder, 1959
        -   _Rhachiberotha_ Tjeder, 1959
        -   _Rhachiella_ Aspöck, Aspöck, Johnson, Donga & Duelli, 2020
        -   †_Whalfera_ Engel, 2004 Baltic amber, Eocene
    -   _Incertae sedis_
        -   †_Oisea_ Nel _et al_., 2005 Oise amber, France, Ypresian

[1]

title: Rhachiberothidae

question: What does the text say about what constituted the Thorny Lacewings' diet?

question: What does the text say about Rhachiberothidae?

answer: Rhachiberothidae is sometimes called Thorny Lacewings. They are a family of winged insects in the order Neuroptera. The family has 14 extant species in 4 genera found in Sub-Saharan Africa. Rhachiberothidae has a diverse fossil record extending back to the Early Cretaceous period in Lebanon (then part of North Gondwana), Eurasia, and North America.

question: What does the text say about the relationship between Rhachiberothidae, Berothidae, and Mantispidae?

answer: Rhachiberothidae has long been included in the Berothidae (beaded lacewings) family. However, they are considered a separate family by the current authors. The Mantispidae or mantidflies is another group closely related to Rhachiberothidae. Some of the paraphyletic groups of fossil forms collectively called "Mesithonidae" also seem quite close.


text:
Here are the instructions for my Pony plushie!
I am not the greatest at explaining things so if you get confused, leave a comment and I'll try my best to help.

Text-only instructions: [link]

Printer-friendly version by [:iconkittyinequestria:] [link]

Pattern

Page 1: [link]
Page 2: [link]

Supplies

Material (see below)
General purpose thread in matching colors
Small, sharp scissors
Hand-sewing needles
Polyester fiberfill (stuffing)
Marker and cardstock

Supplies that aren't absolutely required, but make life easier

Beeswax - run the thread through it before sewing to prevent tangles
Locking forceps - aka hemostats. Help with turning ears and legs
Curved needle - good for finishing seams
Plastic "beanie" pellets - weight down the legs to make the plushie stand better

Material

There are several choices for fabric, each with good and bad points.

Felt
pros: Very cheap, comes in lots of colors, available in craft stores.
cons: Shows stitching, hard to turn.

Fleece
pros: Comes in lots of colors, easy to work with, widely available.
cons: Shows seams, can stretch and distort the shape, can be expensive.

Minky
pros: Decent range of colors, very soft finish, good for smaller plushies.
cons: Hard to find in stores, very floppy so it requires interfacing, shows seams.

Faux Fur
pros: Very cuddly, doesn't need interfacing to hold shape, seams barely show at all, good for big plushies.
cons: Can be expensive, usually less colors available, slightly more difficult to work with.

If you're using felt, fleece or minky, I strongly recommend you use iron-on interfacing. This is a thin material which keeps the fabric from flopping around and stretching, which can make it hard to sew and distort the pattern. Interfacing also makes it much easier to trace the pattern onto the fabric.
Cut the interfacing to fit and place it on the back of the fabric, rough-side down. The roughness is a heat-activated glue which melts when you iron it and adheres the interfacing to the fabric. Follow the instructions that come with the interfacing.

You'll also want to decide how you're going to finish your pony's mane & tail and facial features. Some choices for eyes and cutie marks are: iron-ons, embroidery, plastic safety eyes, felt, fabric paint. For mane, you can use yarn, embroidery floss, sewn shapes, cut felt or faux fur. I've included a generic tail pattern as a guideline, but there are so many different manes you are best off designing your own.

question: What are the supplies needed to make the plushie?

answer: Material, thread, scissors, needles, fiberfill, marker, and cardstock.

question: What are the fabric choices?

answer: Felt, fleece, Minky, faux fur.

question: For this project, what are the pros of faux fur?

answer: Very cuddly, doesn't need interfacing to hold shape, seams barely show at all, good for big plushies.

question: What are some choices for the eyes and cutie marks?

answer: Iron-ons, embroidery, plastic safety eyes, felt, fabric paint.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: This is a how-to guide on making a plushie.


text:
My girlfriend has been pressuring me to get back into short story writing. She read some of my old stuff and says if I tried again, now, as an adult, I'd have the potential to churn out some halfway decent stuff. I don't know though. My writing always comes back to me as muddled and cheesy, reeks of trying too hard. I thought maybe I could post a few samples and get a review. Be brutal, I need to know if I'm wasting my time.
*Untitled Excerpt 1:*
KRAKOW-WOOSH!
	I decided I would make myself jump from my cover and just have to hope for enough timing and luck to put a bullet into one of these crooks kneecaps. Another shot fired, and I couldn't move. Another shot fired and I couldn't have made myself move if there was a rat climbing into my asshole. A century passed by. Swear to Christ, a century. I took deep breath and promised the poor girl at the other end of the room I would jump out of cover at the end of a count to three.
You Shouldn't make promises you can't keep.
"One" came easily enough.
You will die if you leave your cover.
"Two" I readied my six shooter.
Just turn around and go home. Take a long hot shower and drink yourself to sleep.
"Three."
I jumped out and threw my gun in front of my face, desperately looking for something to shoot at, but all I saw was a bright flash.
	POW! Right in front of me. Shirtless thug number 4, whitie, had jumped from cover and fired a shot right at me. Over me? Behind me? I felt hot. Swimming in sweat. My nose felt runny. All my face felt like it had just received the mother of all bee stings, except for my forehead, my forehead felt like it had gotten so hot and light it had floated away to the ceiling. I fled back to my cover behind the dumpster and tried to wipe away the snot onto my sleeve. But something was missing.
	KRAKOW-PUH-TINK
	They had shot off my nose. I rushed my hand against my face again, discovering a searing pain over strange numbness. It felt like I had a heaping vagina where my nose had once been. Blood was pooling onto the floor. Blood was everywhere, I must've looked like something out of an eighties horror movie. Why was the blood so bright? Every time I'd seen blood before it'd been this shitty brownish red while I looked like I had poured a bucket of true bright red paint all over my face and clothes. And the floor. The blood just kept coming, and I wasn't sure if it was years on the police force or just common sense that I was going to pass out. Take a pleasant little blood-loss nap to the lullaby of gunfire. The gunfire. The gunfire had stopped.
	"Zee, joo got him?" The deep voice called out.
	What kind of fucking name is Zee? Officer John Schmidt, murdered by a white wanna be nigger who goes by the name of 'Zee'. Some fucking name for the guy who kills me.
	"Shit yeah, right in the fuggin' face!" Zee replied.
	"She-it, you see 'em?"
	"Naw, he fell back behind the dumpster."
	"Well then getcha ass over there and make sure the nigga's dead."

*Excerpt From Brown Baggers:*  	It was funny that we were the only employees who were brown baggers. Everybody else in the facility spent their lunch hour in the long food court lines, buying the government provided foodstuffs with their meal plans and crumpled wads of cash. They ate French fries on red trays. Greasy pizzas. Sloppy excuses for hamburgers. There was A salad bar, a soda fountain and even a soft serve machine. But none of it was for me and Richard.
	Me and him -sorry- him and I sat in the back right corner, in the shadows. Near our corner table there was an empty table, a table where one lonely, obese security guard ate chicken nuggets with onion rings (everyday, mind you) and finally a table where small gaggle of blonde secretaries howled youthful giggles and gossiped their lunch hour away. They never brown bagged it either. Always had meal shakes and salads. Always complaining. Always. Complaining about their boyfriends, about the food they ate, about the suits they shredded, ran coffee runs for and blew regularly.
	The Suits. Of course none of the suits ate in the cafeteria, they ate elsewhere in the facility, some hidden room. Begged the question if any of them ever brown bagged it.  Probably not.
	Today, on this glorious monday, the 56th monday of the 70 mondays I was to work this year, my lovely wife had packed me a ham sandwich. Wheat bread, mozzarella cheese, a small layer of spinach leaves. I hate spinach. A bag of reduced calorie cheetos. There was a jello packet. A napkin, a plastic spoon, a small sticky note reminding me that she loves me. I really do hate spinach, wish she'd tell me she loved me by conveniently forgetting to put that on my god damn sandwich.
	Richard slumped his pumpkin shaped body into the seat next to me without saying a word. I bit down into my sandwich instead of saying hello. We exchanged a sort of greeting with bobbing heads. He dropped a brown onto the table in front of him and opened it like one would a letter they'd been dreading to receive.
 	An apple. A napkin. A can of coke. A packet of oreos. And a small plastic bag of cold pizza. Missing was a note reminding him he was loved.
	"Cold pizza." Richard mumbled, "Swear to god it makes me wanna smack my kids every time they don't finish the entire pie."
	I laughed. Not because it was funny, but because I had to let him know I was listening.
	Richard coughed as he opened his warm coke, he began to slide the beverage through his persistent scowl and down his raspy lungs. A table over a blonde secretary howled with laughter.
	"How was it this morning?" I asked, "Peterson give you much trouble?"
	I wiped away some spinach on my lip.
	"No." Richard whispered. He took another chug of his coke before he began to tear open his Oreos.
	"There wasn't much fight left in him after everything you did to him." Richard continued, playing with that first little cream cookie.
	"What can I say? The victims parents wanted it rough. So I gave it to him rough." I boasted, trying to retain some modesty.
	"What was that thing you did to the poor guys balls?" Richard asked, unscrewing an Oreo and licking up the cream.
	"Twisted them. The mother's request. 'twist them 'til the sack pops, and then twist them s'more.' I think those were her words exactly."
	Richard ate the rest of his Oreo and began to speak with his mouth full, "You know, when you took this job, did you have any idea you'd be touching more balls than a common whore."
	I laughed. Again, for the same reason. It was true though, what he said. Testicles had become a big part of my work week, day in and day out I was squeezing them, shocking them, cutting them and even, on occasion, burning them. Big hairy skin brains, and it was my responsibility to destroy them for Uncle Sam. Really isn't the ideal career I wanted to grow up to be.
	"How was Peterson by the time he got to your office?" I asked, only somewhat curious, I didn't really have much care for how the poor sap died.
	He returned with a question: "Did you read my part of the request form?"
	"The rules state I'm not aloud to read your section of the request form."
	"Company policy also says I'm supposed to wash my hands for a full minute before and after contact with blood, and when was the last time you followed that?"
	Richard had devoured his second Oreo and had begun struggling to eat the stone triangle of a pizza out of the limp plastic bag.
	"Tell me Richard, what was on your end of the request form."
	"Nothing special. Just a drowning. Slow drowning. He was begging for it after everything you'd done to him."

title: I'm thinking about getting back into writing, I wanna know if that's worth it.

question: Who killed the narrator in the first excerpt?

answer: Some whit e officer named "Zee".

question: What jobs do the characters have in the second excerpt?

answer: It appears they are hired by the government to torture people.

question: Why is the second excerpt called "Brown Baggers"?

answer: The main character and his friend bring their own lunch.

question: What job did the main character of the first excerpt have?

answer: A police officer.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: This section contains two stories, the first about a shooting, and the second about a government facility where people are tortured.


text:
my life seems to be in a perpetual state of crumbling decay. I sometimes wander to safe, untouched parts of my life. But those places don’t stay pristine for long as slowly, but surely, the same decay that existed in my previous experiences begins to destroy anything that shines in my life. It seems as though everything in my life has a dull, lackluster coating. Even the sun once warming rays seem to just push me away, as if trying to keep me from infecting anyone elses lives with my disease. But I don’t want to die.

I wish I could say I wasn’t always this way. I wish I could point to the time, the event, that brought me to this lonely state... but sadly no matter how far back I look, my life seems to be haunted by this slow decay. My only rest came from escapes to other worlds through various medias. Movies were the first. I could get lost in the action on the screen, the issues the actors had became my issues. But the illusion would always end quickly and abruptly. And soon after the same state of depression would settle in, only to remind me that my life and world will never be like the one I just experienced. About the same time as I was getting into movies, I picked up reading and video games. This also helped to transport me to new and exciting worlds that haven’t been corrupted by my presence. Books in a series became a drug. I would read one book after another, faster and faster, trying to experience so much of this new world that it might hopefully drown the one I currently exist in. Waiting for the next one to be released was hell. I would try to read ones I had already finished, much like a heroine addict using an old needle trying to get any remaining drops into his system. But then it happened. I finished the final chapter of the final book in the series I cared most about. The world was over. Sure I could daydream about what the character were doing, but it would be in a world that I create, and doomed to be destroyed by my infection.

The author had unknowingly and unintentionally sent me to hell. I tried to reconcile by watching new movies, but with each credit roll of every film I watched I sank further into despair. For each film watched was another world lost or doomed to be devoured by my crushing darkness. But there was hope. I still don’t want to die. Video games seemed to sustain my thirst for the longest but weren’t quite as strong as movies and books as the persons populating the world had trouble with believability. But a renaissance of sorts happened in the video game world, where suddenly characters acted like people. One series in particular caught my attention. It’s world was filled with people you cared about. And they followed you through all three games of the series and game you reasons to care about said individuals. It was amazing. And then it ended... In a blaze of glory for the betterment of everyone, I gave all to save all. Sure, it was just my video game avatar that died. But it took what feels like the rest of my soul with it. The end of that series took away good friends. Friends that I could always talk to. A best friend that followed me through thick and thin. A significant other that always wanted me safe. And all of it was wiped away. It took away such a huge part of me that I refused to believe that it actually happened. That there was some, secret ending that revealed another game was coming out.

But it never came. My hero died, *but I didn’t want to die.* That series was the nail on the coffin. Now every medium I used to escape was tainted. I’ve gone from movie, to book, to video game, trying to capture what I know I once felt. But the corrosion always seems to arrive the moment I land on some other world. It’s maddening. I’ve been contemplating of other actions that can numb my mind to what's around me, but I know these methods will only bring me back to the same place I started, or someplace worse. But I still don’t want to die. At least I don’t think so. I have noticed that I made a rather frightening purchase a while ago. I bought a pistol. Impulse. I had no intention of buying it, but for some reason I was drawn to it. Something about how the metal’s hint of shine. A shine that reminded me of a place I had been before. A part of my life that was once filled with such hope. It felt natural in my hands. Not too heavy, but definitely sturdy enough for heavy use.

I bought it and a case of ammo. Like all new things I buy, I tend to open them up in the car on the way home. It’s a sense of excitement that everyone feel when they purchase a new toy of sorts. by the time I arrived home, I had already loaded a full magazine and had placed one round in the other. I left the gun in my car, bringing only one magazine with me into my home. Fast forward a few days. I was having trouble sleeping one night, so I decided to go for a drive. I drove for a few hours out to the middle of nowhere. I had a blanket in the back for emergency purposes, but decided to pull it out, lay on the ground, and watch the stars. And there it was. The cold black metal slightly reflecting the interior car lights. I grabbed the handgun, the reason I told myself that an animal might attack me and I don’t want to die. So I layed there on the blanket, back on the ground, eyes to the sky. And gun still in hand.

I layed there in silence and without a thought for about an hour when I first noticed it. *I don’t want to die*. It was a phrase that I had said all my life. It was just something I would repeat in my head without any real reason for being said. But for the first time, I noticed it wasn’t just a simple statement; It was a reply. I spoke it again, this time outloud. *“I don’t want to die.”*  I could feel my hand tighten around the grip of gun. *“I Don’t Want to Die.”*  I sat up with the gun in my lap, shining with the light of the moon and stars. *“I DON'T WANT TO DIE.”*  The gun sat there. Tempting me with it’s shine, a shine I wanted so dearly in my life. Multiple thoughts were racing through my head at this point. Phrases “Do it! You deserve this rest! End your suffering!” coursed through my mind. Were these thoughts always there? Were they caused by my corrosive curse? Or were they the very thoughts that caused the pain I was in? ***“I DON’T WANT TO DIE!”*** The barrel felt cold, lifeless. And in one fell motion, I threw the gun away from myself. *“I don’t want to die... I don’t want to die...”* Sweating, I repeated the phrase over and over. *“I don’t want to die... I don’t want to die...”*

I drove home with the radio off that morning, gun in the passenger seat. When I got home, I pulled the bullet out of the magazine, placed the gun and magazines in the safe, and lost the key. I don’t know why I didn't just leave the gun. The bullet... well... I've made it safe. Pulled the primer and drained the powder through drilled holes on the side. Engraved my name in the copper, pulled a string through the new holes and made a necklace out of it. I could have died that night. This necklace helps me remember that I was stronger than that. This bullet was meant to end my life, but now I hope it gives me strength to keep it. It’s got a certain shine...  *“and I don’t want to die...”*

title: Shine

question: How did the narrator escape the impending doom of their life?

answer: The narrator escaped the impending doom of their life by getting lost in other worlds through various medias like books, movies, shows, and video games.

question: What does the bullet at the end of the story symbolize?

answer: The bullet symbolizes a fighting chance to live life, as it was bought to end the narrator's life but is now used as a second chance.

question: How can you describe the narrator's mindset in this story?

answer: The narrator is full of suicidal thoughts, depression, and is in a very lonely mindset.

question: What was the strongest proponent that helped the main character avoid her doom feeling?

answer: Video games helped the main character avoid this dooming feeling the longest.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: This short story describes someone who is struggling with the will to live and escapes the doom of their world through various types of media. The narrator of the story eventually fights their way out of their mindset to start living their life.


text:
I have a tendency to relate to song lyrics in the same way an apple can relate to international politics. I'm also what people call scatterbrained. Those people are assholes. If they were here right now, I'd untie their shoes.

Dark clothing and an apprehension towards smiling does not equate to me being interested in your shitty band. If you felt real pain you'd write a novel. Instead you're thinking of words that rhyme with *depression*.

I could be a lyricist if I knew how to rhyme and was better at bullshit.

The awkward pause. You've handed me your band's demo. You tell me to pay close attention to the fourth track.

Who the hell do you think you are?
What do you expect me to do with a cassette tape?
*When will you listen to me?*
*Where can I escape this loneliness?*
Why does the ballad on every shit album show up in the same place?
How many girls have fallen for this?

"You don't remember me at all, do you?" I remember he's a mediocre singer. I remember that he is part of a warm-up band that I am not here to see. I remember rolling my eyes throughout much of their performance. My mother used to tell me that if I kept rolling my eyes they would eventually get stuck in the back of my head. If only that could have happened twenty minutes ago.

I bite my tongue and it's the first thing I've felt all night.

*Discretion*.

He walks away and the dreadful exchange has concluded. This is part of his game. I've been given a riddle and the answer can be found in the fourth track.

It's months later and I've forgotten about this night.

*Repression*.

My jacket reeks of cigarette smoke and sweat. The noisome smell brings me back to the night this jacket was last worn, and my hand instinctively rediscovers the cassette tape buried deep within the side pocket. A sudden fear grips me, and I'm not sure why.

As luck would have it, I'm driving my father's old pick-up truck while my car is in the shop. The two knobs of the old cassette tape deck resemble eyes that tell me my next move.

I start the tape. The first three tracks are almost unbearable. The fourth track begins. A ballad.

One cliche after another. Dark. Creepy. It's about a girl. She has no idea she's being watched. My finger is reaching for eject. That is when he sings my name.

*Obsession*.

title: The Fourth Track

question: Who is the narrator referring to as assholes?

answer: Can be implied that they're the people who call her scatterbrained.

question: Why does he hate the band?

answer: The narrator doesn't like the band's music.

question: Who is the narrator speaking to?

answer: A mediocre singer who is a part of a warm-up band.

question: Where is the conversation taking place?

answer: The narrator is at a performance with her mother.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer:
The narrator is attending a band performance, but she doesn't like the band. The singer gives her the band's cassette and asks her to listen to the fourth track. She thinks he's a mediocre singer.

Months later, she is in her father's pick-up truck and rediscovers the band's cassette. She plays the fourth track that's a dark and creepy track about a girl being followed, and that girl is her.