Global Schizophrenia Drugs Market Size research report 2022 offers in-depth assessment of revenue growth, market definition, segmentation, industry potential, influential trends for understanding the future outlook and current prospects for the market.
Full Reports: https://www.fortunebusinessinsights.com/industry-reports/schizophrenia-drugs-market-101531

Previous attempt
Hey everyone! I've been working on my query. Manuscript-wise I'm essentially ready to go, but the query package is continually a struggle for me. Hopefully this version is clearer than other iterations.
Also for reference, this is an adult novel. Pretty much every beta I've had told advised against toning violence/themes down for YA, saying it works better as an Adult novel even with it starting in high school. So for that reason, I'd love feedback as to whether the query sounds too YA, as past queries where I didn't specify lead to that assumption.
Dear (Agent),
(Personalization). I am seeking representation for my queer supernatural thriller, HARVEY, complete at 98,000 words. With its emphasis on the Midwestern setting, it will appeal to fans of Gothic fiction and those with Y2K nostalgia.
In the fall of 1999, someone begins terrorizing the small, remote town of Harvey, Missouri. Some residents vanish without a trace, while others are found brutally murdered, their bodies lacerated and completely drained of blood.
There’s no clear pattern linking the victims, nor any viable suspects, but eighteen-year-old Oliver Whitman isn’t frightened about his own safety. After all, with his terminal genetic heart condition, death has loomed over him since birth, and he views his life as disposable—a mindset that his clandestine boyfriend, Jace, can’t seem to understand. Plus, no one but Oliver knows from wandering into the woods one evening that the culprits are beyond anything humanly imaginable. It’s an easy decision for him to sacrifice his life to protect his love from them.
Four years later, the last thing Jace—now a college senior—wants is to return to Missouri, especially Harvey, as he’s still grieving the loss of Oliver. However, when a former classmate’s body is found on the anniversary of Oliver's disappearance, Jace finds himself unwillingly pulled back in. While he has no idea who—or what—it is that has a personal vendetta against Harvey and its residents, a string of threatening messages written in blood make one thing certain: Jace is the next target.
Following dual POVs, HARVEY is a character-driven story that explores the lengths to which individuals will go to protect those they care about. My novel will appeal to fans of vampire novels such as CERTAIN DARK THINGS by Silvia Moreno-Garcia or THE SOUTHERN BOOK CLUB’S GUIDE TO SLAYING VAMPIRES by Grady Hendrix, and fans of queer, supernatural romances such as the GREEN CREEK series by T.J. Klune or THE DEAD AND THE DARK by Courtney Gould.
(Bio)
First 300
“Bob, it seems we’re hearing no new developments on the recent missing person case coming out of Harvey, Missouri this morning. Nineteen-year-old Tyler O’Sullivan is the ninth person in Adams County to turn up missing or dead this year.”
“Truly awful, Janice. And such a terrible situation for what we hear is such a small, close-knit community. I think I speak for everyone when I say we all hope they find him safe and sound.”
“Well, the O’Sullivan family and the Adams County Police Department are asking for anyone with any information to please call the number—”
“Did you know him?” Jace’s mother asked as he wandered into the kitchen that Monday morning. She was setting the crockpot for dinner, but her tired eyes seemed unable to break from the small box TV on the linoleum counter.
Jace Silva pulled the milk carton from the fridge and stared at the image on the TV. On it was a list of Tyler’s physical attributes and clothes he last wore alongside his senior yearbook photo. His gray eyes were partially obscured by his black bangs, yet seemed to pierce into Jace’s soul.
“Not really.”
Of course, he knew of Tyler. He frequently saw him in the school halls until his graduation last year. Living in a small, rural town in fuckall nowhere, Missouri it was hard not to know everyone at least by face, especially someone one grade above. With shaggy hair and edgy black clothing in the middle of the rural bible belt, he stood out like a sore thumb.
Tyler and his family went to church every Sunday, yet people always looked at him and his equally black-clad friend, Evangeline Lark, like they were demon possessed. Not that anyone dared to say anything to Tyler’s face, given his cop father. Though after Columbine a few months ago, pressure did make him trim his hair and switch to normal blue jeans. Jace himself thought little of it.

So I was sentenced 3 years ago for dui, was bad, however my first dui, with many prior drug paraphernalia charges in the past. For out on parole after 5 months. Completed parole . He gave me 5 years probation. I keep being juggled around by pos passing me on to the next and it just happened again. Ive been clean the whole timetrying to improve my life but i want to travel a bit explore some things. Ive not had one violation in the 3 years. Every time I should move down in level or whatever I get a new po and they feel they want to get to know me and start the process over. I'm on my 4th or 5th po now. When I got out I moved 3 hours away to a new county. My question is do I write the judge that sentenced me or one here in this county where I've done all my probation? Am I even likely to be approved? For what it's worth I work as a peer support. Thoughts?

For context, I am a Catholic that got invited to Crossroads Church, a born-again ministry, back then in July 2022 here in Cebu when I was having a difficult phase in life. I was invited from a reformed schoolmate who used to do drugs, alcohol, not attend classes, and bully others. He is a pleasant person now and his transformation made him closer to God.
I was paired with a Cell Leader who is a good man at heart. His wife is a pastora in that ministry as well. I know that my Cell Leader is a good man with the best intentions.
By October, I started thinking twice about it because the church started asking many things from me such as my time, tithing, joining Life Class, and joining Life Coaching. They really plan to convert young people to become born-again Christians. In fact, many of the youth that join Crossroads are Catholics that are either curious or having a difficult phase in life. It got toxic to the point wherein the diehard pastors would demand we devote our Fridays to our respective cell groups, Saturdays for the youth praise worship, and Sunday for the Sunday service. I couldn't do this because I already have pre-planned some of my what limited weekends there were in my calendar.
Around November 2022, one of the newest members of our cell group is a known diehard. His story is that he used to be a former sacristan of a Catholic Church. He later left the Catholic church because of its corruption, worship of Saints and Mary, and the fact "Why does one get absolved of sin when he/she sacrifices?". He even stated that he got heartbroken because he allegedly broke up with his girlfriend. He was left to wonder until one person came to him and presented him a phamplet for Gravity, the youth ministry of Crossroads Church. That's when he joined Crossroads.
He's a nasty individual and he's proud to say that he is a diehard Christian who doesn't care being called out as a "weirdo" or an "extremist". At one point, he called out two of my cell groupmates (both being former Catholics) for doing un-Christian things.
First guy he called out, a waiter for a restaurant:

• The waiter for a restaurant is a native of Bantayan Island and during his Christmas leave, he joined with his childhood neighbors/barkada/friends in the annual Simbang Gabi. He did not join the Simbag Gabi per se. Rather, he just sat outside the iconic church in Santa Fe out of respect for his friends. When the diehard got a wind of this, he called him out, saying what he did was a sin because you cannot serve two churches at the time.

The second guy he called out is a banker:

• The banker attended a fiesta in his workmate's house because he was invited into it. He's a former Catholic that joined Crossroads/Gravity. He didn't attend the procession of the fiesta, knowing that it's against the Born-Again church to worship/honopraise Saints. When diehard cell groupmate got a hold of this, he promptly called him out. The banker said he was only there for the food and the gathering (not the procession), but the diehard guy said by merely celebrating the fiesta through food, the banker still sinned because the celebrating it even without the procession is honoring a saint, which is a sin because "thou shall not have false Gods before Me."

This asshole went so far as to say all religions are false. That Catholicism is a cult, Islam is a cult, Buddhism is a cult, etc.
He also tried to convince me NOT to celebrate the ultimate Sinulog comeback last January because it is "parading an image". Even though my purpose for celebrating Sinulog was to meet friends who may not be around by 2024 as many of them will leave the country. Keep note Cebu has been waiting for the return of Sinulog since 2020 due to the pandemic and on the personal note, six years for me because (Sinulog 2017-2020 wasn't as fun because there was a no-street party rule. I didn't go to Sinulog 2018 because I was in medical school, and there was no Sinulog in 2021 and 2022 because of the pandemic). There are diehard Christians from other born-again ministries every Sinulog that do militant street preaching in the middle of the fun festival. Often times, their preaching comes out as harassment to the festival goers. For him and the diehards, anything fun = earthly/worldly = sin because it is not "honoring Christ". In other words, even if you are in Sinulog to experience Cebu's culture or just to enjoy a street party, you are committing a sin.
I was roped into Life Class last February since they timed it onto the Friday cell group meeting. I didn't even consent to it. The Life Class is a 10-week session with one-class held every Friday. Looking at the calendar, the Life Class would have ended in the middle week of May. I already had planned out my vacations for the Summer of 2023.
I was then roped into joining the Encounter, wherein we are supposed to meet Jesus and experience the Holy Spirit. The Encounter took one whole weekend that spanned from 8 am to 5 pm (but we got late, because on the first day it ended at 8 pm). The fee was also 500 pesos. During the Encounter, they asked as thithing four times and I only have enough for myself since my salary is very menial. One of the diehard pastors there were asking us to fully devote our lives to this Church and invite two people every Sunday so that there will be more disciples of Christ. The diehard pastor went so far to say to decline all fun things and outings such as if you have a relative from abroad coming and wants to go to the beach on Sunday, we will have to decline because our priority is with the Church itself. We then had the typical Encounter activities. We also had things that are forbidden to do in their eyes such as celebrating festivals (Sinulog being their primary target), going to concerts, listening to rock and pop music, partying, pornography, gambling, drugs, alcoholism, practicising witchcraft, and the like. While I agree gambling, drugs, pornography, and witchcraft are bad, it's way too much to restrict people from watching concerts or going to street parties.
After the Encounter last March, I just ran away and never returned. I essentially ghosted them but later explained to them I was leaving the church. The cell leader was saddened because he's a good man and he really wanted me to be a disciple. We even finished Change 12 between October to December 2022. In other words, the cell leader was beginning to invest in me. I just couldn't stand the toxicity and the diehard fundamentalists in that ministry; my cell leader not one of them (he is a cool guy).
Anyways that's my take. Feel free to comment.
Apologies for the long post. Had to let this out.

(just gonna go ahead and say this is kinda me venting)
This year I've realized more and more that my childhood was messed up. I've been remembering some stuff and I am at a loss for words. My father literally held a gun up to my mother's head and told us to say goodbye to her because we were never gonna see her again. This happened on more than one occasion.
It's crazy how my dad was never arrested for this and many of the other worse things he's done. He was arrested for other stuff though, can't remember off the top of my head but my county hates my family, or at least those with the same last name.
It's sad that the school knew a tiny part of what was going on but never did anything about it. Even when people were called though my mom would like to them and they'd believe her, and we'd like to because my mom said that she would never ever be able to see us again if we told them what was going on, and to just say everythings good.
I even remember one time the electricity got turned off and my mom lit candles all around the house so we'd have some light. I can still remember the smell of them. I remember we had to take cold baths too, which I didn't mind much but I remember my brother and sister hated it. Around this time we kept getting lice too, which didn't help because we were already poor enough and barely had money for food.
Another messed up thing is that my father would take food to others woman's houses and feed them and their children, leaving us starving for days at a time. He either probably got sex or drugs out of it, not sure. I remember one time he kidnapped me and my brother and we had to stay in his car for hours while he went into someone else's home leaving us there, cold and scared of what was going to happen.
I also remember this time my father was hitting my mom and was also arguing with her. She kept arguing back, which was even worse, and also held us in her arms, well at least my siblings. I stayed away because I was scared and she kept trying to get me to come to her. At one point my father went to leave and I stood in between the two of them, unsure of what to do. My mother kept trying to get me and eventually got upset and yelled at me, telling me to go on and run to my dad because that was all that I cared about anyway, and that I didn't love her.
I ended up walking down there and scaring my father on accident because I was so quiet, my family sometimes thinks of me as a ghost, luring in the shadows and scaring people all while being deathly quiet or whispering, which was actually just my normal talking. Anyways, after I scared him he told me to go back up to my mother, I didn't want to make him more upset by explaining to him that my mom had sent me down here so I slowly made my way back to my mom. I was terrified because I thought my mom was gonna be really mad at me for not going to my father. I don't remember if she was because I only remember a few things from my childhood.
I'm honestly kinda scared to see if I'll remember anything else because the stuff I do remember is already really bad.
Sorry for kinda venting on here, thanks for reading though if you made it this far

Hi there,
I have a drug test coming up that I am going to try and dilute my urine for. I’m 60 days clean from thc but still testing positive. Stupid to even fuck w it on probation, i know. my appointments have all been over zoom so i figured i would have plenty of time to get clean before another UA.
For context, this is my first time getting in trouble w/ the law. I got a DUI in April 2021. Court June 2022. Probation 15 months. All terms completed (classes, DL suspension, community service, ignition interlock), just waiting for October to come. I’ve always been up to date on monthly reporting & payment plan for court & probation.
If for whatever reason I turn up positive for thc, what are the possible outcomes?

22F, 5’4, 160lbs. Workout 5/7 days. ADHD. No drugs. No alcohol. On no medications and have no health conditions aside from post-covid struggles. Relevant family history: Diabetes, Hypertension, grandad died of heart attack at 40.
Since my second infection (november 2022), i have been having trouble breathing. ECG, stress test, Echo all done in the last 2 months and everything is normal. However, chest pain and shortness of breathe persists. Latter more prominent. Especially when i lie down in bed at night, i can barely breathe and feel forced to take deep breaths from my mouth. Have never been a mouth breather before. Even when breathing with mouth, i can never get a full breathe in and struggle a lot. While sitting up too i have to breathe from mouth from time to time because i get short of breath really quickly. Really struggling here. No anxiety issues. What else can i do?
Thank you.

Bluetooth speaker market is anticipated to grow at a considerable CAGR of 11.5% during the forecast period. Bluetooth speakers are often used by youngsters to listen to music at any time and in any location. Consumers' increasing use of wireless electronic gadgets has increased demand for such items. Users nowadays frequently utilize multi-colored Bluetooth speakers to decorate their living and hall areas. Alexa, Amazon, and other interactive Bluetooth speakers are also becoming increasingly popular, resulting in high demand for Bluetooth speakers. For instance, according to NPR (National Public Radio) and Edison Research's 2022 Smart Audio Study, 24% of those over the age of 18 own at least one smart speaker. This equates to around 60 million individuals. Because most consumers own more than one smart speaker, the research predicts that there are currently 157 million of these devices in US homes. The study is based on a telephone survey of a little over 1,000 individuals in the US.
Get Free Sample link @ https://www.omrglobal.com/request-sample/bluetooth-speaker-market
Industry forecasting is performed to present in-depth understanding of industry tactics. A clear picture on current and upcoming market happenings are provided in this report. Critical factors are highlighted in this Bluetooth Speaker Market study report for enabling business owners take important decision making in terms of decide on the right business doing ideas. Moreover, it aims at offering forthcoming improvements, market restraints and market drivers for the forecast period 2022-2028. It assists novel firms to retain their place in the market. Prioritized market info is discussed through this detailed Bluetooth Speaker Market
This Market report predicts novel product introduction will bring drop in sales or growth in sales. Such an illustrative Bluetooth Speaker Market report enables major firm to stay reorganized on the most current trends and offers best idea about overall demand for particular product offering. Through this global report, it is also possible to acquire a competitive edge. All the COVID-19 related information is covered in this Bluetooth Speaker Market study report along with its major impact of globe’s major firms. It makes easy the work of key players and enables to take data-driven and beneficial decision in terms of making best investments, which techniques to apply and marketing budget of different products. It has many advantages to provide for available or novel services, product and brands. Methodologies captured in this market study report enable central participants to attain the best results to the specific business aims as well as challenges. Getting fast customer feedback is easy with this market study report.
full report of Bluetooth Speaker Market available @ https://www.omrglobal.com/industry-reports/bluetooth-speaker-market
· Market Coverage
· Market number available for – 2023-2030
· Base year- 2022
· Forecast period- 2023-2030
· Segment Covered- By Source, By Product Type, By Applications
· Competitive Landscape- Archer Daniels Midland Co., Ingredion Inc., Kerry Group Plc, Cargill
· Inc., and others
Market Segmentation
Global Bluetooth Speaker Market by Type
o Wireless
o Wired
Global Bluetooth Speaker Market by Application
o Residential
o Commercial
Regional Analysis
o North America
o US
o Canada
o Europe
o UK
o Germany
o Italy
o Spain
o France
o Rest of Europe
o Asia-Pacific
o China
o India
o Japan
o South Korea
o Rest of Asia-Pacific
o Rest of the World
Company Profiles
o Altec Lansing
o Anker Innovations Technology Co., Ltd.
o Apple, Inc.
o Bose Corp.
o Jvckenwood Corp.
o Koninklijke Philips NV
o LG Electronics Inc.
o Logitech
o Onkyo Corp.
o Panasonic Holdings Corp.
o Samsung Electronics Co., Ltd.
o Sony Corp.
o SoundBot
o Yamaha Corp.
o Zebronics India Pvt. Ltd.
The Report Covers-
​

• Market value data analysis for 2023 and forecast to 2030.
• Annualized market revenues ($ million) for each market segment.
• Country-wise analysis of major geographical regions.
• Key companies operating in the global Bluetooth speaker market. Based on the availability of data, information related to new product launches and relevant news is also available in the report.
• Analysis of business strategies by identifying the key market segments positioned for strong growth in the future.
• Analysis of market entry and market expansion strategies.
• Competitive strategies by identifying ‘who stands where’ in the market.

For More Customized Data, Request for Report Customization @ https://www.omrglobal.com/report-customization/bluetooth-speaker-market
About Orion Market Research Orion Market Research (OMR) is a market research and consulting company known for its crisp and concise reports. The company is equipped with an experienced team of analysts and consultants. OMR offers quality syndicated research reports, customized research reports, consulting and other research-based services. The company also offer Digital Marketing services through its subsidiary OMR Digital and Software development and Consulting Services through another subsidiary Encanto Technologies.
Media Contact:
Company Name: Orion Market Research
Contact Person: Mr. Anurag Tiwari
Email: [email protected]
Contact no: +91 780-304-0404

Bluetooth speaker market is anticipated to grow at a considerable CAGR of 11.5% during the forecast period. Bluetooth speakers are often used by youngsters to listen to music at any time and in any location. Consumers' increasing use of wireless electronic gadgets has increased demand for such items. Users nowadays frequently utilize multi-colored Bluetooth speakers to decorate their living and hall areas. Alexa, Amazon, and other interactive Bluetooth speakers are also becoming increasingly popular, resulting in high demand for Bluetooth speakers. For instance, according to NPR (National Public Radio) and Edison Research's 2022 Smart Audio Study, 24% of those over the age of 18 own at least one smart speaker. This equates to around 60 million individuals. Because most consumers own more than one smart speaker, the research predicts that there are currently 157 million of these devices in US homes. The study is based on a telephone survey of a little over 1,000 individuals in the US.
Get Free Sample link @ https://www.omrglobal.com/request-sample/bluetooth-speaker-market
Industry forecasting is performed to present in-depth understanding of industry tactics. A clear picture on current and upcoming market happenings are provided in this report. Critical factors are highlighted in this Bluetooth Speaker Market study report for enabling business owners take important decision making in terms of decide on the right business doing ideas. Moreover, it aims at offering forthcoming improvements, market restraints and market drivers for the forecast period 2022-2028. It assists novel firms to retain their place in the market. Prioritized market info is discussed through this detailed Bluetooth Speaker Market
This Market report predicts novel product introduction will bring drop in sales or growth in sales. Such an illustrative Bluetooth Speaker Market report enables major firm to stay reorganized on the most current trends and offers best idea about overall demand for particular product offering. Through this global report, it is also possible to acquire a competitive edge. All the COVID-19 related information is covered in this Bluetooth Speaker Market study report along with its major impact of globe’s major firms. It makes easy the work of key players and enables to take data-driven and beneficial decision in terms of making best investments, which techniques to apply and marketing budget of different products. It has many advantages to provide for available or novel services, product and brands. Methodologies captured in this market study report enable central participants to attain the best results to the specific business aims as well as challenges. Getting fast customer feedback is easy with this market study report.
full report of Bluetooth Speaker Market available @ https://www.omrglobal.com/industry-reports/bluetooth-speaker-market
· Market Coverage
· Market number available for – 2023-2030
· Base year- 2022
· Forecast period- 2023-2030
· Segment Covered- By Source, By Product Type, By Applications
· Competitive Landscape- Archer Daniels Midland Co., Ingredion Inc., Kerry Group Plc, Cargill
· Inc., and others
Market Segmentation
Global Bluetooth Speaker Market by Type
o Wireless
o Wired
Global Bluetooth Speaker Market by Application
o Residential
o Commercial
Regional Analysis
o North America
o US
o Canada
o Europe
o UK
o Germany
o Italy
o Spain
o France
o Rest of Europe
o Asia-Pacific
o China
o India
o Japan
o South Korea
o Rest of Asia-Pacific
o Rest of the World
Company Profiles
o Altec Lansing
o Anker Innovations Technology Co., Ltd.
o Apple, Inc.
o Bose Corp.
o Jvckenwood Corp.
o Koninklijke Philips NV
o LG Electronics Inc.
o Logitech
o Onkyo Corp.
o Panasonic Holdings Corp.
o Samsung Electronics Co., Ltd.
o Sony Corp.
o SoundBot
o Yamaha Corp.
o Zebronics India Pvt. Ltd.
The Report Covers-
​

• Market value data analysis for 2023 and forecast to 2030.
• Annualized market revenues ($ million) for each market segment.
• Country-wise analysis of major geographical regions.
• Key companies operating in the global Bluetooth speaker market. Based on the availability of data, information related to new product launches and relevant news is also available in the report.
• Analysis of business strategies by identifying the key market segments positioned for strong growth in the future.
• Analysis of market entry and market expansion strategies.
• Competitive strategies by identifying ‘who stands where’ in the market.

For More Customized Data, Request for Report Customization @ https://www.omrglobal.com/report-customization/bluetooth-speaker-market
About Orion Market Research Orion Market Research (OMR) is a market research and consulting company known for its crisp and concise reports. The company is equipped with an experienced team of analysts and consultants. OMR offers quality syndicated research reports, customized research reports, consulting and other research-based services. The company also offer Digital Marketing services through its subsidiary OMR Digital and Software development and Consulting Services through another subsidiary Encanto Technologies.
Media Contact:
Company Name: Orion Market Research
Contact Person: Mr. Anurag Tiwari
Email: [email protected]
Contact no: +91 780-304-0404

Terminally-Ill Genius Dark Knight

https://mangakik.biz/manga/terminally-ill-genius-dark-knight/
is a fantasy RPG infamous for its extreme difficulty.
However, to Yoo Chan, who was diagnosed with a terminal illness at a young age, this game was his entire life and has now become his reality.
From now on, Yoo Chan has to survive in this world as Nox von Reinharber, the worst villain in the first act of the game. Will he be able to reach the end of the story safely?

I Became the Mad Emperor

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A long but slowly serialized novel, [The Great Human-Demon War], Bang GwangSuk binge read it over and over, infatuated by the majestic world building and story development.
One day, a mysterious message was sent to him.
[This story ends here. Please use your power to save my world from ruination.]
Before he could get an answer to the questions in his mind, a new world was presented before his very eyes—from the perspective of the Mad Emperor Exceltrion that would lead the world to ruins.
“That’s right. I’ve become the mad emperor from the novel!”

Ranker (2022)

https://mangakik.biz/manga/ranker-2022/
An online membership game run in secrecy. Kang Junseo coincidentally jumped into Ranker.
Junseo from who knows when, started to see his opponents as monsters and it was his player, Jeongjun’s voice that allowed him to find his calm again. With Jeongjun, Junseo is prepared to heal the symptoms.
However Ranker is not only a quest where your life is at stake. It is filled with characters battling each other and the constant threat of being hunted.

Leveling Up With Skills

https://mangakik.biz/manga/leveling-up-with-skills/
Four options were presented to humanity under peril from mysterious monsters that devoured humanity in 2020. Players who have completed the mazes in each mode must return to Earth and prepare for the invasion of ancient gods! Easy mode where anyone can survive Normal mode where only the strong survive Hard mode where only 1% can survive Solo mode with extreme difficulty Kang Tae-san, the strongest human player in Easy mode, who conquered the maze through extraordinary means and possesses abilities that others do not have! 「Addition, multiplication, attack nullification, absolute judgment…」 However, coming from the ‘Easy mode’ background, his absolute power is lacking…! Finally, the day of humanity’s ultimate reckoning has arrived! A miraculous opportunity appeared as he was dying in the depths of despair! “This time, I will definitely become stronger.” Challenge the maze once again! Kang Tae-san, a skillful player, advance to ‘Solo Mode’!

My Little Brother Is The Academy’s Hotshot

https://mangakik.biz/manga/my-little-brother-is-the-academys-hotshot/
In the last battle with the king of the dragon race that killed countless humans, Rudd Denatos loses his comrades and biological brother, Aesir Denatos. The moment he slays an unidentified dragon that appears before him, he returns to his days as an academy cadet. This time, Rudd tries to kill all dragons, so the past doesn’t repeat itself. However, in the past, he has regressed into his brother, Aesir, a genius warrior doesn’t exist. Trying to fill in the empty spot of Aesir, Rudd tries to prepare as much as possible before the strongest dragon king, the Seventh Dragon, appears. Will Rudd be able to find his older brother and avenge his parents?

A Modern Man Who Got Transmigrated Into the Murim World

https://mangakik.biz/manga/a-modern-man-who-got-transmigrated-into-the-murim-world/
I was a public official who worked part-time to survive. I was knocked out by a speeding car while making deliveries in the middle of the night.I have a strong memory of dying prematurely in a hit-and-run.
I’m Jo Hwi At some point. I became the second son of the collapsing Jo Ga-cheol Clan.
This family has neither the authority to drop a flying bird nor the power to carry out one’s will. There is only an enormous amount of debt that can annihilate the entire family.
There’s only one way out. Father, please pass the Jo Ga-cheol Clan on to me.
The story of a successful modern man who has to utilize all the knowledge and experience of a public official begins now.

F-Class Destiny Hunter

https://mangakik.biz/manga/f-class-destiny-hunte
In a world where destiny decides the ability one awakens, Seo Gangrim is born with the worst destiny. He awakened as a hunter, but he was the very bottom of the bottom. One day, he is ambushed…
[Power ‘Destiny Stealing’ is being activated. You have obtained the power ‘Regression’.]
He lost all his teammates to an assassin, but right before dying, he regressed to his past.
Right then, Seo Gangrim made the decision never to leave his life to destiny again.

How To Live As An Unlicensed Healer

https://mangakik.biz/manga/how-to-live-as-an-unlicensed-heale
One day Kang Songhyun opened his eyes on the Azul Continent. He didn’t know the reason. When he woke up he was no more in South Korea. He’s thrown into a fantasy world. ‘Why did I come to this kind of place?’
At that time, the status window pops up in front of him [Your job is ‘healer’?]
But among his skills… ‘huh? …No healing?’ That was the beginning of the life of an unlicensed healer. A healer who does not know how to heal.
Kang Songhyun is good at everything except healing In a fantasy world as an unlicensed healer his story of survival begins.

The Dark Mage’s Return to Enlistment

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Minjun Kim, an ordinary high school senior in Korea, was suddenly summoned to another world where he became a dark mage. Determined to return home, he overcame all sorts of hardships and saved the other world with black magic before leaving all his wealth and glory as a hero behind to return to Earth.
However before he could fully enjoy his life. A problem arose. A dungeon break had occured and monsters came pouring ou threatening his comfortable days. Therefore Minjun who had just returned to earth had no choice but to enlist on the very next day.

Drug-Eating Genius Mage

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Having reached his talent limit on magic, the protagonist was sent to the gaming world as punishment — to a huge city named Valkan. In order to survive. He builds relationships with other people and investigates the secret behind the “closed world”. Striving to prevent the end of the world.

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https://mangakik.biz/manga/archmage-transcending-through-regression/
Mikhail Walpurgis, the world’s only 9th-circle Archmage, fell in battle due to a damned hero, and managed to cast one final advanced magic spell, . As time rewound, he regressed to 20 years ago.
“Fine. I’ll just become the hero instead.”

Demon Lord’s Martial Arts Ascension

https://mangakik.biz/manga/demon-lords-martial-arts-ascension/
“Demon Lord.”
That’s… What they used to call me in my past life, before I became human

I Regressed to My Ruined Family

https://mangakik.biz/manga/i-regressed-to-my-ruined-family/
I was born as the oldest of a renowned swordsman family, and became stronger faster than anyone. Yet, I could not stop the dragons, a great disaster that had appeared on the continent. I closed my eyes in my final moments, thinking everything was over. I really thought it was over… But when I opened my eyes, I was back in the past. A past that was very different from the world I knew.

Everyone Else is A Returnee

https://mangakik.biz/manga/everyone-else-is-a-returnee/
Left behind again, and again, and again. The straggler was abandoned by all of mankind due to a cloaking technique unknown even by God. “Why was I the only one left behind? Why did this happen to me?” [In the end, even after God had devised a list of all the humans meant to be transported to another world, he could not find you. You said it was a truly phenomenal cloaking technique, right?] So I, alone since birth, began my lonesome daily life on Earth, awaiting humanity’s return.

Poison-Eating Healer

https://mangakik.biz/manga/poison-eating-heale
Cheon Haesun is the protagonist who‘s terminally ill because of various poisons. Cheon Haesun, who was never welcome anywhere, will have his story of becoming the strongest hunter play out on an Earth upon which dungeons and monsters have broken out!

Chronicles of the Demon Faction

https://mangakik.biz/manga/chronicles-of-the-demon-faction/
Chun Hajin, the strongest assassin of the Orthodox Murim’s Righteous Heavenly Alliance. Hajin loses his life as he tries to escape to find freedom. And then… ‘The divine cult is immortal, may all demons submit. Congratulations on your recovery, third young master!’ He was reincarnated into the body of the Murim’s public enemy, the third young master of the Demonic Cult?! The conquest of the Demonic Murim by Chun Hajin, the strongest secret weapon of the Orthodox Murim, begins now.

Life of a Magic Academy Mage

https://mangakik.biz/manga/life-of-a-magic-academy-mage/
Graduate student Lee Han was born as the youngest son in another world’s famous family of mages. He swore he would never go to another place with the word “academy” in it. However, the magic academy known as Einrogard completely ignored what he had promised himself. Being self-sufficient is a must; monsters may appear, and the professors are all total nutjobs! This is the beginning of a pitiful academy life that you have never seen before. “Will I be able to… graduate safely?”

I am all messed up inside knowing that this will be the last night, the last day that I will be spending with my Dog. I rescued him from another dog's mouth August 9, 2022. He was about 4 days old. His stomach, buttocks were busted open, his legs and pinky toe were messed up. I called the humane society they advised me to throw him away. I couldn't so I healed him back to health. Now he is 10 months of age, and he is suffering. He must have some into contact with something bad that is making him eat all of his hair off to the point where he is showing pink skin. His tail has no hair on it, it's bare, his arms, legs, chest and behind his ears are all bloody from him scratching. I am so torn up about this but there is nothing that the vet can do for him anymore and I cannot watch him scratch and bite his skin away. He does not have flees, I give him Benadryl, but nothing is working. he cries and bites and scratched all day long. he ever has puss coming from his tail where he has bitten all of the skin off. Well, I just thought I would share this post with you guys. Thanks for reading.

Sun Herald paywall. Anita Lee article. Copy/Paste
Mississippi Coast business couple Ted and Julie Cain are trying to avoid paying a $32.6 million civil judgment against him for defrauding Medicare, the U.S. Attorney’s Office alleges in a lawsuit filed to collect the money.
Julie Cain is liable for repayment of $27.4 million of the total owed for her part in the fraud. The jury found that the couple billed Medicare over a 12-year period for work they never did at the former Stone County hospital, which Ted Cain owns and now leases to Gulfport Memorial Hospital.
The Cains had not paid a dime on the judgment by November 2022, government filings show. They are appealing the jury’s verdict in the civil case tried in U.S. District Court in Gulfport.
Attorneys for the government say the Cains tried to conceal their assets six months before their trial started because they were “staring down the barrel of a multi-million judgment.”
Before the trial, they transferred most of their assets to two trusts set up for their children, a son and daughter. Records show the Cains transferred 25 companies to the trusts, including LLCs that hold property. But Ted Cain controls those trusts through a management company, the government says.
“Hence, by the stroke of a pen, Ted Cain — who minutes prior was the owner of dozens of LLCs and real properties — became almost penniless,” the government said in a legal filing.
The government is asking the judge presiding over the case, Henry T. Wingate, to find that the transfer of assets was fraudulent, or assess damages against the trusts and its holdings. The government also wants to investigate the financial status of the Cains and the trusts.
The government’s ultimate goal is to collect the money the Cains owe and to prevent the Cains from drawing down assets from the trusts.
Wingate froze the couple’s assets before the civil case was decided. Ted Cain denies in legal filings that the assets transferred belong to him.
The Cains, represented by former Gov. Ronnie Musgrove, say they transferred the assets to the trusts “for legitimate estate planning purposes” and no fraud was involved. They also say that they are able to pay the judgment against them, despite the transfer of assets.
The fight over the assets is set for trial in March 2024 before Wingate in federal court. The Cains, their childrens’ trusts and companies and property held by either the elder Cains or the trusts, are defendants in the case. Cain assets: from Biloxi to Hattiesburg
Cain bought Stone County Hospital in 2001, after it had closed three times. He testified during the trial that the 25-bed hospital would not have been successful and residents would have been without an emergency room had he not overseen its operation.
He paid himself more than $15 million for the oversight from 2004-2013 and his wife $2.3 million as hospital administrator. But testimony during the trial showed they did little work for the money, with the government insurance program Medicare reimbursing them $13 million of the total.
Government attorneys said in a legal filing: “Ted Cain’s ‘work’ failed to meet every single condition of payment and evidence at trial established that Ted Cain’s visits to the hospital were to the cafeteria for the fried chicken and catfish on Wednesdays and Fridays, respectively.”
The jury found the Cains collected more than $10 million of their salaries through fraud. Judge Wingate then tripled the damages, as the law requires.
As a young man, Cain, who was born and raised in Wiggins, followed his father into the nursing home business. He soon branched out, becoming the owner of companies such as The Focus Group advertising agency in Biloxi, Cain Cattle Co. in Perkinston and Quest Pharmacy in Hattiesburg.
Ted Cain owns hundreds of acres in Stone County, where he was born, including this cattle farm. The government maintains Cain is trying to shield his assets, including dozens of companies that he owns, from a $32.6 million fraud judgment he’s been ordered to pay in a civil case.
Ted Cain owns hundreds of acres in Stone County, where he was born, including this cattle farm. The government maintains Cain is trying to shield his assets, including dozens of companies that he owns, from a $32.6 million fraud judgment he’s been ordered to pay in a civil case.
He also owns multiple properties, including a waterfront home in Ocean Springs.
His companies, with the exception of Stone County Hospital and Corporate Management Inc. in Gulfport, were transferred to his children’s trust. Both the hospital and CMI were also defendants found liable in the Medicare fraud case. Medicare fraud under appeal
The Cains appealed the fraud verdict on multiple grounds to the 5th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals.
They say the government bypassed Medicare’s administrative process for recovery of overpayments. Taking the Cains to court allowed the government to recover damages that tripled the overpayment.
They also say the government failed to prove the Cains “knowingly” submitted false claims because their hospital salaries were reported annually to the government.
Government attorneys argue the verdict should stand.
They say Ted Cain accomplished his fraud through a “sweetheart contract” between Stone County Hospital and Corporate Management Inc.
Ted Cain and co-defendant Tommy Kuluz, right, leave the federal courthouse in Gulfport during a break in a 2020 civil trial where a jury found they committed Medicare fraud by paying Cain and his wife salaries they did not earn at his Stone County Hospital. Kuluz is chief financial officer of a Cain company that managed the hospital, now leased to Gulfport Memorial as Memorial Hospital Stone County.
Ted Cain and co-defendant Tommy Kuluz, right, leave the federal courthouse in Gulfport during a break in a 2020 civil trial where a jury found they committed Medicare fraud by paying Cain and his wife salaries they did not earn at his Stone County Hospital. Kuluz is chief financial officer of a Cain company that managed the hospital, now leased to Gulfport Memorial as Memorial Hospital Stone County.
CMI charged the hospital “exorbitant” management fees to disguise the size of Ted Cain’s executive compensation at Stone County Hospital, which was 15 times the average, the government attorneys contend.
They also say Medicare was billed for “hundreds of hours” that Julie Cain did not work, first as hospital administrator, then as a consultant and director.
The Cains’ Medicare fraud appeal is still pending. Leasing to Memorial Hospital
Through legal filings in the assets case, the government has tried to establish a pattern of concealment on the Cains’ part.
When he leased the hospital building to Memorial in late 2019, Ted Cain did not disclose the Medicare fraud lawsuit pending against him, his wife and the hospital. The government says the lease terms required disclosure of pending litigation.
Cain also identified himself as the owner of Wiggins Acute Care, his company that owned the hospital building and would be leasing it to Memorial.
But Wiggins Acute Care was one of the companies transferred to the Cain childrens’ trusts created months earlier.
In its initial lease with Wiggins Acute Care, Memorial agreed to rent Stone County Hospital, now Memorial Hospital Stone County, for $129,000 per month. Fourteen days after the lease was signed, the Cains finalized paperwork that created the trusts months earlier, further indicating their attempts to hide assets, government lawyers say.
Cain paid himself the difference between Gulfport Memorial’s rent payment and the monthly mortgage of $94,503.37 that Wiggins Acute Care owed on the hospital, government attorneys say.
In addition to Cain’s own spending, government attorneys are also concerned because, they say, his children have access to, or are benefiting from, the appreciation of assets in the trust funds.

Race Information

• Name: Boston Marathon
• Distance: 26.2 miles
• Time: 2:40:XX

Goals

Goal	Description	Completed?
A	Under 2:42 (PR)	Yes
B	Under 2:45	Yes
C	Finish strong	Yes

This is a bit late for a Boston recap and very long for a casual read (consider yourself warned). It’s kind-of about the race, but it’s also just a bunch of semi-connected thoughts and feelings about training, injury, results, and what comes next that have been floating around for me over the last couple months.

Prologue

I started running during the pandemic, transitioning away from my long-time sport of Ultimate Frisbee to try to run a sub-5 mile (report here). I did it, and it was good. And I had caught the running bug. Ready to extend my distances, I declared to my coach that my next goal (after a short hiatus to play one more season of frisbee) was to qualify for Boston. Boston was, in fact, the only marathon I had ever spectated: I remember sitting at Coolidge Corner in 2009, watching runners speed by. I was young and springy then, and had no desire to run farther than 3 miles continuously. But now it was 2021, and time had run out on my fast-twitch abilities: it was time to go long. I wanted to run Boston, which meant I had to run something else - and hopefully just one “something else” - first.
We decided to target Eugene for 2022, to qualify for Boston in 2023. I began building up my base in the fall, testing my weekly mileage limits. I remember a “long run” of 70 minutes the first Sunday after I returned to regular running. I nearly gave up and walked 60 minutes in. But the next Sunday I did 80 minutes, and it was better. By the end of the fall, I was comfortably hitting 50 mpw and 2 hour runs. By the time Eugene came around, I had sixteen weeks of generally healthy training and six 20+ mile runs in my legs. felt ready, and I was: I ran a 2:42. I was a freshly minted 36 at the time, so with the BQ time for my age group and gender at 3:05, I was firmly in the clear.
I'll pause here to say that although I am far from an elite runner, I am also keenly aware that many people work their asses off for years to qualify for Boston, and that some never do. I worked hard, too, and my history of sports can’t have hurt, but at the end of the day I know I have some (unearned) talent for running that made my path to Hopkinton easier than it is for many. I will leave it here in saying that I have immense respect for everyone who laces up and puts in the work, regardless of their pace and outcome.

The Build

After Eugene, I had turned my attention away from the roads for about six months. I put the bank of fitness I had developed to work on trails and on mountains. I got to cover (and bonk on) a few of the many thrilling backcountry objectives in British Columbia, and even ran a 50k in Washington. (It went about as well as most people’s first 50k, which is to say that I ran out of food, water, fully supermanned down a trail, cramped every muscle in my lower body, and shuffled it in. Huge success.) But when December came around, it was time to get back to the roads.
Working with the same coach, my road fitness came back surprisingly quickly. I was hitting high-water marks for volume, pushing my average up to the high 60s/low 70s. I felt, well, not good, but I did feel fast. I remember hammering out a 30 minute tempo on the track at 5:41/mi, a workout I never would have been capable of during the Eugene build. I was tired after, but confident and elated. I got compliments from the youngsters rolling 600 repeats around the track, and their coach. I felt like I was on track for a new PR, and not just a PR but a crushingly fast time, maybe somewhere in the mid 2:30s. But somewhere, offscreen, ominous music played. I had my wings on, and I was headed towards the sun.
The sun took the form of a work trip to Bozeman. I flew over Thursday, found a gym to do a tough 60 minute “mountain fitness” workout that evening, ran for an hour Friday morning in the snow, and skate skied 2.5 hours hard on Saturday. Sunday morning, I took on a treadmill workout that was something like 7x(7 min @ 5:41/mi, 2 min off). After two intervals, I knew I didn’t have it. I stepped off the treadmill. I’ve failed workouts in the past, and I’ve been able to move on, but for some reason this one stuck. It stuck, as they say in the South in my craw. Annoyed, I went back to my hotel room and tried to regroup. With my muscles already starting to tighten up with the effort, I resolved to partially salvage the day with an easy run around town. But it didn’t feel like I had salvaged anything. So, after an 8-hour, two hopper flight home, I made another attempt to soothe my bruised ego. With night falling, I hit the pavement, starting out easy but picking up speed. Tired, tight, and without any food or water, I hammered away, deep in the no-man’s land of Zone 3. I had heard the warnings. I paid no heed. I was invincible, and I was going to reclaim the fitness I had missed out on that morning. I ran the distance of a half marathon and got home after dark, and you know what? It felt good, at the time. It felt

The Injury

The next morning, I woke up in a pile of melted wings. My left leg couldn’t take any weight without shooting pain and was tender to the touch around my mid-shin. I felt the dubious benefit of immediate and regretful clarity on what had gone wrong. My ego had let me believe that I could or should try nail a workout on a foreign treadmill at altitude (Bozeman!) after an exhausting couple of days. Failing that, it had convinced me that I should make up the workout with a long, unfueled run. Ego is a hell of drug.
It took several days for me to accept that I was injured. Looking back on my training log, it seems insane, but I ran the next few days on my program, including a track workout. My leg would throb and ache, but I would get through it, only to wake up in more pain that would abate just enough for me to try it out again that afternoon. Eventually, I fessed up to my coach and she immediately sent me to a PT and had me stop running for a week. I thought this was excessive at the time, but in retrospect I think it might have saved the build. The PT I saw said I had a stress reaction, probably brought on by a combination of weak glutes (it’s always the glutes) changing my push off and some good old-fashioned overdoing it.
For the next month, I cross trained with uphill biking, skate skiing, and water jogging. We re-introduced running gradually, starting with once every three days, then every other day, then two out of three days. The shin seemed to get better slowly, and we gradually reached a kind of homeostasis: I knew how far I could push it, and as long as I didn’t overdo it, it seemed to recover slightly faster every time. But the injury had come at a bad time, and missing most of February meant that I couldn’t race the local half marathon I had planned on or a local trail race (though I still participated in them as long runs).
By mid-March, I was feeling mostly better. In addition to Boston, I had also signed up for Chuckanut 50k, a trail ultra renowned for its smooth runnable trails and its timing: it often drew some of the elites of US trail running as an early season opener. I didn’t feel quite ready to hammer the downhills, but if anything, limiting myself kept my quads intact almost through the end of the race. I didn’t tear the roof off, but I ran most of the way and felt pretty good doing it. When I woke up the next day with the usual soreness, but no acute pain in my shin, I knew I was going to finish the build and run an honest race at Boston.
The only problem was that a week’s recovery brought me to March 24: only about three weeks before Boston. With a weeklong taper, shorter than usual by necessity, we really only had two weeks to get into Boston shape. My coach put on a masterclass in programming: she designed workouts that required exactly as much as I could give at the time, while preparing me for the unique qualities of the Boston experience and course. One in particular stands out: 4x(15 min MP effort, 8 min T effort, 4 min jog), but on a route that included a 300-foot hill, which I ended up going up and down 3 times. The key was to maintain effort going uphill, but to not go any faster than 6:10/mile downhill. That and another long run gave me two 20+ milers in the books. That was it.
Going into Boston, I knew I didn’t have the sharpness I had even three months ago. I had started the cycle hoping to PR, maybe by a lot, but before the marathon I set more conservative goals: my C goal was to get to 20 miles (where my mom would be) feeling strong; my B goal was to get under 2:45. My A goal was to PR. I wasn’t feeling brave: I wanted to minimize the possibility of blowing up, while still giving myself a fighting chance at a one-second PR if I was having a really good day.

The Marathon

There’s not much to say about Boston (the marathon) that readers here haven’t read before. The logistics are impeccable, but overwhelming for a first-timer, the fanfare and the fans are legendary, and the course is the running world’s version of the Strait of Messina: athletes must navigate Scylla’s ego-tempting downhills and Charybdis’ ill-timed uphills to survive. While it is literally impossible to make it to the Boston marathon start line without having at least one hundred people tell you to not hammer the downhill at the start, people still do it every single year.
In a way, I was lucky have reckoned with (and lost to) my ego early in the build. I came to Boston healthy but wary of too much self-belief. We set a target and hard limit on the pace I would set through the first 15k: 6:15s would be ideal, but at most 6:10s: I wouldn’t run faster than I had down my training hill. At the start line, a small inspiration struck. Boston sets bib numbers by qualifying time, and my 2:42 at Eugene gave me something in the 1100s. Within my corral, I found the people around my number and then walked about 30 meters back, placing myself closer to folks wearing 1500s. I reasoned that if most people overcooked the start, then I wanted to be with the folks overcooking it at a pace I could be comfortable with.
Once the race started, it was virtually impossible, for the first couple miles or so, to shift my pace much above or below what the people around me wanted to run. If thought at first that I had let myself sit too far back: I ran a 6:35 first mile down the two-lane streets of Hopkinton. But as the crowds thinned a bit, I found a rhythm, and clicked off my first 5k at around 19:14, around a 6:12/mile pace. The next 5k, still downhill but slightly less, was a 19:12. The third was 19:13. Rolling through the small towns that make up the western side of the Boston metro area, I didn’t feel good, exactly, but I also didn’t feel bad. I wasn’t sure what kind of day I was having. That’s the odd thing about the marathon, so far as I can tell: you might know you’re having a bad day early on, but deciding that you’re having a good day is inviting disaster.
A quick aside: it can’t be overstated how impressive the Boston crowds are. There was no point on the course that I can remember where we were without support for more than 25 meters. Wellesley and Boston University are extreme even in that context, though: you actually feel the roar at those points in the course before you hear or see it. Bless you, you drunk and joyful undergraduates.
By 25k, we were through half and quickly approaching the Newton Hills. After a long downhill, we turned at the fire station and started to charge up. I shortened my stride and began to pump my arms, lifting my effort from a 6 to a 7 but no higher. I didn’t look at my watch until the end of the first hill, so you can imagine my shock when I saw that the last mile had been a 6:06. I cruised the lengthy downhill after the first hill (nobody really tells you about those) and regained my composure. The second hill was punchier, and brought me down to a 6:10, but I still felt good, and was starting to pass quite a few people. The third hill was mostly forgettable, which left only Heartbreak. While not objectively a big hill, it’s big enough for that point in a marathon, and you definitely see it coming. I was determined to hold my early race pace through it, though, and pushed the effort up again. I was breathing hard, but I got to the top still holding a 6:11 pace.
Even at the top of Heartbreak, I wasn’t fully ready to believe that this was going to be a really good day. I’m told that much better runners have lost entire races in the so-called “haunted” mile following Heartbreak, and I wasn’t sure what my quads had left in the tank. But while it still didn’t feel good, I kept pouring in gas and they kept responding. The last few miles of the race are a bit of a blur: I remember pushing the pace down to 6:06, then 6:00, then even below 6:00 for a mile or so. There are a couple very short and punchy climbs just before the last turns that took something out of me, but by the time I turned left on Boylston I knew I had more than the balance left over. I started sprinting at the turn, only to realize that the 600 meter long stretch was a bit more than I had bargained for. Still, I closed respectably: I ran last mile was a 5:41, exactly what I had worked on maintaining in that early tempo workout.
I finished in 2:40:XX and negative split by about 2 minutes. It poured like crazy 15 minutes after, while I huddled under a restaurant awning. I watched other runners come in. Some, like me, had the elation of a good day to soothe their tired muscles and joints. Some had no such balm, and were left to untangle the end of a long, challenging cycle from a disappointing final result. I was reminded, too, that it’s all relative: as I sat under the awning, I heard a runner near me lament his 2:35, while another came in over the moon with his 3:15. Kipchoge had a bad day, and he finished more than half an hour before I did. We are comparison machines, and expectations versus reality is the oldest routine we know.

Epilogue

The marathon is a harsh race, and I feel genuinely lucky to have had good experiences on my attempts so far. Two months on though, my body still feels beat up: I’m struggling to recover, my knees ache, and my workouts seem to be going the wrong direction. I don’t think I gave my recovery the respect it deserved, so I am once again tangling with my own hubris.
Assuming I can rest enough to properly recover, I also find myself in the position of figuring out what’s next. Boston was a big goal for me, and I didn’t set any real running objectives after it. All I have on my schedule this summer is a couple of local trail and road races. I thought Boston would be my last marathon before I moved entirely to the more forgiving pastures of trail running, but I’m also tempted to see how far I can push the needle on my road running before age claws my aerobic fitness back from me. I’m 37 now, and well aware that at some point the PRs will no longer be on the table, but I think that day is still a few years off. If you were me, what would you aim for next?

It is now 12:00 A.M. I tried reporting this building after we lost our manager, and they honestly just got an attitude and treated me poorly. People are having random visitors in and out the side doors all night. They slam the doors and twenty minutes ago there was a group of three people just wandering the hallway. I literally fear for my family's safety at this point, and I have tech people would want to steal. The building has practically been unsafe since we moved in, but after management quit. It is like the fucking wild west in here. People constantly go in and out side doors to avoid cameras, and of course they never put them in the halls! People are slamming doors half the night, and every time they do, it sounds like someone is fiddling with my door. While typing this I have looked at my peephole multiple times. I live in constant fear. I even hear people get in to hide from the police here, and I know there is lots of drug activity. I am hearing lots of slamming doors and stuff. But I can't be 100% there are people still in my hall. Like there is no audible sounds of conflict, so I am totally unsure of what is going on. This has been going on since we have moved in, and there has been worse situations. Am I withing my rights to persue legal aide to break the lease? Another person said I should do that, but the only issue is we have nowhere to stay at the moment but this hell hole. If you need to know any of the other incidents because this alone isn't enough, please contact me. One other thing I will say is I think the building is paying to cover up crimes on the property. A woman who lived here reportedly stabbed a man on or near the property, and he broke in to get to her. The apartment is not even ten feet from us. But yet there are ZERO police reports on them, to collect to break the lease. I LITERALLY think they are paying to cover shit up here.
Edit: The woman fled the area, then possibly came back? They both had the police sergeant, and a detective after them. But yet there is zero reports of the situation ever occuring.

Was hoping for some help identifying the Family Fun Center wherein Ray Castro (Luiz Guzmán) and Montel Gordon (Don Cheadle) find Eduardo Ruiz (Miguel Ferrer) in the ball pit and shoot him in the foot. The scene, which can be found on YouTube by searching “Traffic Drug Bust Shootout,” has the characters starting off at the Self Storage (5175 Pacific Hwy, San Diego, CA 92110), hop the fence to the train tracks and then from there I don't know where they go.

Three New Terrifying True Scary Tales
​
Number One: The Pool
​
Now, this happened a very long time ago. I am not going to mention when or where though and I am submitting it anonymously. I don’t want people going back and finding out more about it and then lashing out of me.
​
I was 13 years old and my brother was 11. As I mentioned, this happened a long time ago and I think today, not a lot of parents would put a 13 year old in charge of an 11 year old. But this was not unusual at all back then. In fact, I was looking after my little brother all the time before either of us even hit 10 years old.
​
After a while, of course, always keeping my eye on him began to get very annoying. It interfered with my hanging out with friends. It was quite a drag when I would try to talk to girls. It was just a pain in the ass, really.
​
Anyway, one day during a really hot summer, our parents decided to drop us both off at the local swimming pool for the day. My dad had to work and my mom had errands and stuff to run plus work do to do for the church. It was so hot and there was no way we could afford air conditioning. We had one old fan in the house and a sprinkler in the yard that we could go play in. But the swimming pool was the much better option.
​
Of course the pool was very crowded. Lots of families would drop their kids off there during the summertime. And of course, even though I knew it already, my mom stressed to me, “Keep an eye on your little brother at all times.”
​
Some of my friends were at the pool too. I got to talking to them and they told me about this new girl who moved into town. She would be starting school that fall and supposedly she was really hot. So of course, I wanted to check her out. I knew the lifeguards would be watching my brother in the water, so he would be fine.
​
I went with the guys and the girl was really cute. My buddies all dared me to approach her, which was admittedly a brave thing for a 13 year old boy to do. Of course, I couldn’t chicken out in front of them, so I did just that.
​
She was a very sweet girl. We actually ended up talking for a little while. Her parents were at the pool though, and they called her back after too long. So I went back to the water to see how my little brother was doing.
​
The only problem was that I couldn’t see him anywhere in the water. This was a small town in a rural area, so although I said the pool was crowded, it wasn’t like a water park is crowded though. I should have easily been able to pick him out of the water. He just wasn’t there.
​
I went and searched around the area surrounding the pool and didn’t see him there either. My heart started beating faster and I began panicking. I went to the building where the showers and concession stand were. He wasn’t there either. You couldn’t leave that pool without going through that building, though. I asked the attendant if a 11 year old boy had left the pool on his own in the previous hour and he told me no.
​
I then went to the lifeguards and my buddies. I thought maybe there was a chance that I had missed him. It’s easy to occasionally miss someone in a crowd. The lifeguards ordered everyone out of the pool. Fortunately, there were no drowned children in the pool. Unfortunately, my brother was nowhere to be found outside of the pool.
​
The lifeguards had to call my mother at the church. I had never before lost track of my little brother like this before. I had no idea what to expect when she showed up. I was only thankful that the police were already at the pool or she probably would have whipped my ass right there in front of the entire pool.
​
The trouble I got into at home isn’t something that I want to go into very much. My butt very much has PTSD from the experience. But that was minor compared to the fear I felt for my little brother. Hell, I didn’t even have time to feel guilty although that I knew that I was. I was only concerned for him and wondered what would happen.
​
All day and night, I expected the police to bring him home. But that didn’t happen. I expected it the next day too. But it didn’t happen.
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The town organized a search to look for him. I kept expecting to hear from them that they had found him. But that didn’t happen either.
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After about a week of my brother not being found, I began fearing for the worst. I began thinking that he was dead. And I was terrified every waking moment of my life, expecting to absolutely hear the news that his dead body was found.
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Nearly two weeks after the disappearance, we got a phone call from the police. They had found my brother and thankfully, he was alive. But unfortunately, that’s not the whole story.
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Remember the attendant telling me that no boy had left on his own? Well that’s because the boy left with one of the lifeguards who was getting off duty. He had lured my brother out of the pool and into his car with promises of ice cream, something he and I rarely ever got. And my brother went to his house with him.
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For all of that time, he kept my little brother locked up in his basement. He didn’t do anything sexually to him, thank God. But there was a lot of mental and some physical torment when my brother wouldn’t do what he was told to you. But the scariest part for him was thinking he would never get out and be with his family again.
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Here is another weird part. The lifeguard wasn’t an adult. He did this while his parents were out of town for a few weeks. They came back early and caught him. And if you think I felt bad for my parents’ punishing me, what they did to him had to be legendary. The police thought he was either planning on killing or releasing my brother before his parents got home. But no one ever knew for sure.
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He had to live with it without much help for a long time. Mental health assistance had a very bad stigma back then. But we’re both still alive today and he forgave me a long time ago.
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Number Two: Taking the Garbage Out
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A few weeks ago I went outside at around 3am to move the garbage to the curb since pickup would be in the morning. I often do this in the middle of the night. I just tend to keep weird hours and as the weather warms up for the summer I find the warm nights preferable to the sweltering days.
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I’m not worried about bothering my neighbors since I don’t use noisy bins and all of the houses right next to me are currently empty. I actually find the quiet of the neighborhood at night quite relaxing.
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Unfortunately since I don’t use bins animals are able to get into the bags a bit easier and while this doesn’t happen often it had happened on this night. So I was outside picking up the strewn around garbage and putting it into another bag when the silence of the night was suddenly broken by multiple police sirens.
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At first they seemed distant and while they startled me it was not at all unheard of to hear sirens at night here. But usually it would be one in the distance. As I listened, still bagging the garbage, I could tell it was multiple sirens and they were getting closer. Then just as suddenly as it started it stopped again. There was just silence. By the time they stopped they sounded maybe four blocks away.
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For a moment the night was silent again and I began hauling the bags to the curb when the neighborhood dogs began barking all at once. It was like every dog in the neighborhood had gotten the cue to start barking. Many were even howling. It continued for maybe a minute and once again it just stopped as suddenly as it had started.
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I realized I hadn’t heard any barking or howling while the sirens were going and that’s normally how it would work. These dogs had started up separately from the sirens and just stopped all at once. It just wasn’t normal. I went back to the side of the house to grab more bags when the silence was broken a third time. 

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Just a single chime in the night. Like someone getting a phone notification. This sound wasn’t blocks away. This sound was here. RIGHT HERE. No more than feet away. As I said, the houses around me are empty.
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I was done. The rest of the garbage would wait until morning. I didn’t see anyone close by but that just made it worse. There was someone close by that I couldn’t see. I immediately went into the house to leave the garbage for the morning.
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I don’t know if these things were related. If the cops had been chasing someone who’s fleeing had caused the dogs to bark. Someone who received a message on their phone as they approached my house. Or if it was all just a coincidence. But I won’t be taking the garbage out at 3am anymore.
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A Commuter’s Nightmare
William M.
06/30/2021
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Back in the 80s, I worked at the Irwin Memorial Blood Bank in San Francisco while living and commuting from Oakland, CA
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My job as Registrar, took me all over Northern California, during Blood Drives at hospitals, clinics, major corporations, etc., where we would sometimes witness firsthand, the dead, being placed on gurneys, running out of the Coroner's or Medical Examiner’s rear doors, and down the sidewalks, because they simply didn’t have enough room or staff inside the morgues to process them. Mortuaries were having problems too due to the massive overload where deceased loved ones were admitted but not processed or interred for months or even years at a time.
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I remember watching the News and reading newspaper accounts of E.R.s in hospitals, clinics, etc. so clogged with patients, that 1 in 10 would die waiting to just get in to see a Dr. It was a Public Health and Safety nightmare. It was a National disgrace. It was politically orchestrated mass murder. It was the B purge of the ‘80s and ‘90s.
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I remember, starting work early on one of many Blood Drives (the A.I.D.S. epidemic was just getting started) and having to catch the first B.A.R.T. (Bay Area Rapid Transit) train out of the station at about 4:00 am, where morning after morning I would witness hundreds of people sleeping on the benches, or the sidewalks, or on the streets outside, waiting for it to open.
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Hundreds of others would be seen walking around like zombies in the early morning freeze amid the concomitant yelling, screaming, moaning, begging, and pleading, all of it looking like a newsreel of the death camps at Auschwitz-Birkenau.
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Many times, I was woken at home in the middle of the night, to the sounds of people howling and cursing outside my window at some real or imagined threat, until either the police came, which usually took hours because they were spread so thin, or some tenant, or other, ran them off.
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I remember the time I woke up to the sound of a woman’s voice begging in the early morning cold for someone to help her. She kept repeating it over and over growing weaker and weaker until it was little more than a whisper.
By the time I’d gotten up, armed myself with the steel-reinforced baton I’d purchased at a Police Supply store, and ran the 5 floors down to the ground floor, I found her sitting in a taxi shivering from the 42-degree drizzle coming in off the Pacific. The cabbie told me it was alright; she was just cold and needed someplace to rest and warm up; He’d drop her off at one of the nearby shelters.
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At the time, I was living in a local Residence Hall on Lake Merrit in Oakland, California which was little more than a converted Hotel from the San Francisco/Oakland Gilded Age of the late 1920s. It had 5 floors and a penthouse with a capacity of about 200. I never saw it get much beyond about 30 residents. It sported a full kitchen, dining area, big screen tv viewing room, swimming pool, and a recreation room with pool, foosball, and darts.
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I lived with a friend, at the time, on the 5th floor just under the penthouse. There was an elevator, but like most refurbs, it didn’t work. That meant we'd have to climb 10 flights of stairs every day to reach our room. The best part was that we had the entire floor to ourselves. I guess nobody wanted to climb that many stairs. Because we were both runners, it was a little like running the 900 feet to the top of Angel Island, running across The Golden Gate Bridge and back, or running the 3.4 miles around Lake Merrit twice a day.
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Because there was no air-conditioning, all the windows were left open during the summer months, but along with whatever cool air the San Francisco/Oakland Bay would bring through the gaping nearly wall-length vault ceilinged windows, it was always accompanied by the teeming, screaming City of Oakland street din: cabbies, buses, cars, trucks, vans, motorcycles, scooters, police sirens, ambulance, fire department, pedestrians, hustlers, druggies, break-dancers, prostitutes the homeless, et al. Day or night, winter or summer, it was like living in a jet engine test lab, somewhere on the 9th level of hell.
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Of course, we could always close the windows against the noise 5 stories below. But if it was summer, with all the humidity coming off the bay, we’d roast like 2 suckling pigs in our own sweat even if we used a fan.
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One night after a particularly grueling day at work, I came home, climbed Mount Everest (or at least K-2) to my steaming little abattoir, tore off my sports jacket, shirt, and tie, and fell into a coma-like sleep only to awake some 4 hours later to the sound of someone slamming a door, over and over, seemingly as hard as they could. It was about 2:00 am and raining so hard the water was pouring through the open window and flooding the floor and carpet. The sound was coming somewhere down the hall from one of the other units.
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After about the 15th or 16th slam to my inner ear, I was up, as in a trance, running like a lunatic from unit to unit and window to window, covering the entire southside of the 5th floor; battening down the hatches, and getting drenched in the process. It was, how should I say: exhilaratingly infuriating. I was supposed to get up in 2 hours and commute to work in the upper peninsula.
Having unconsciously completed this Sisyphean task and realizing that there was zero chance of getting any sleep, I donned my foul weather gear, equipped my trusty baton (I used to tuck its 2 ½-foot length up my sleeve when running), and headed out the front door to Lake Merrit which was just outside the main entrance. From there, I trotted to the sidewalk circling the lake, and began to run.
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As I ran counterclockwise against a torrential rain with a gale-force wind broken only by the occasional intermittent rainbow-hued lightning flashes which blinded me to almost everything around me, I almost ran into someone up ahead who was walking in the same direction.
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He was hunched over against the wind and rain and wearing a long heavy winter coat. Unusual for that time of year, I thought. Whenever I would run in public, I always made it a courtesy to let people know when I was approaching especially from behind. I’d blurt out a perfunctory:
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“Excuse me.” Followed by a conciliatory:
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“Sorry.”
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But apparently, the person ahead either didn’t hear me or didn’t care because, when I was about 6 feet from him, he suddenly turned around, exposing a darkened contorted face, jagged teeth, and a guttural growl that would have stopped a charging 600-pound Grizzly.
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The sheer force of the malevolence emitted from this inhuman thing almost made me stop, but because I was moving so fast, the inertia along with the gale force wind and lightning strikes propelled me past him (or it), and fingering my steel-reinforced baton, I, in turn, steeled my nerve and kept running. I looked back only once to reassure myself that he (or it) wasn’t following.
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Running on the leeward side now, with the rain at my back, I ran past a group of men in a circle smoking or drinking or doing whatever noxious or illicit thing I imagined, when, feeling charged with my own adrenalin, or the anger and resentment at that woman’s searing pleas for help, or the spook I’d almost run into, or just the gross injustices thrust upon the world in that dank, dark and dangerous time, I almost stopped, baton in hand, intending to take on the whole group: I may go down, I told myself, but at least I would take one or two with me.
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Just then, the lightning struck particularly close to where I and they stood and the sheer blinding flash and concussive boom shook all of us enough to break up their conspiratorial collaboration and my righteous crusade; just enough, that is, to shove me headlong around the next bend, to the long straight full out dash to the front doors, the 5 floors, 10 landings, and 50 risers to rain-sodden home.
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To get to work every day, I'd have to commute to the upper peninsula by using 3 buses, 1 train, and 1 cab and after a 10 or 12 or sometimes 14-hour day, I would have to take the same to get back. This meant that if I didn’t go out, make dinner, eat, or watch tv, I just might get about 4 hours sleep. Commuting took between 2 to 3 hours, one way.
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Once on the way home, almost every stop was crowded with commuters. I was told that it was because there were so many buses down for repair. The ones still running were so filled beyond capacity, that the shocks and springs were sitting on the chassis, and stop after stop proved nearly impossible to take on any more passengers. Still, and despite the few getting out at every stop, the driver would take on even more and just pack them in.
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I remember him yelling for people to get back behind the yellow line over and over. By then, he was long past any semblance of reason; his patience frayed to a single maniacal thought, his voice raspier and raspier, his manner, more and more brusk.
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I can still see when he finally lost it; jumping up, out of his seat, with a nickel-plated 38 Caliber Revolver pointing at one of the passengers; an elderly woman, screaming from the top of his lungs:
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“Get back behind the yellow line!”
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I can still hear the woman begging the driver:
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“Please...” while the passengers behind were practically trampling each other to get out of the line of fire.
I remember the sad, exhausted urgency in her voice; she really was trying to move back, but how could she, an old woman, do that with all those people blocking her way? Everyone knew this was an impossible task; everyone except the maddened driver. He just kept glaring, and bellowing with his gun out pointed right at her and the other passengers.
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"Back up and make room" he yelled.
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‘Or else what?’ I thought. ‘You're gonna kill an old woman?'
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Getting up out of my seat, pushing my way through the throng who were pushing against me to get away, I managed to get within about 6 feet from the front when, roaring through the din and my fear and anger, I ordered the bus driver to:
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“Put the gun down!” And again, with even more rage and authority:
“Put the gun down, now!”
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The bus driver shocked that it might be a cop, or worse, shakily, put his gun back in his concealed carry holster and hypnotically sat back down. He resumed driving without saying another word. I got out at the next stop, along with the elderly woman. She was so shaken, that she busted out crying. I held her still fuming despite the close call because I would now have to wait for another bus and after that, 2 more; the train and a cab to get home. I wasn’t going to make it until well after 8:00 pm. As soon as I got home, I reported the bus number and the driver to Muni.
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Many of the commuters I'd see day to day, or share a seat with were victims of the purge just trying to get out of the rain or the cold, or the wind, or the sun, even for just a little while. For them, it was easing the agony of living on the street, even just a little. For many of us regular commuters, during those dark times, it proved to be the same.
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On one of the final buses that would take me to the train and across the bay, I remember standing, with about 50 others, on Market Street waiting. Like ours, stop after stop was so packed with people, some were standing in the street because there was simply not enough room on the sidewalk. The ones in the street would stay where they were for fear of losing their place and missing their connection and having to wait another hour, or more, to catch another.
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Because the rapidly descending elevation of the southbound streets ending at Market Street from the upper peninsula were so steep and the transverse angle of the turn so sharp, some of the buses would skirt the edge of the curb, sometimes rolling up over it onto the sidewalk putting them dangerously close to the commuters waiting on the other side.
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If there were any people in the street, especially the old or the infirm, they would either have to get out of the way and lose their place in line or hope the bus driver stopped before completing the turn. Most of the drivers would. Once there was one who didn’t.
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I remember the television and newspaper account about an elderly woman waiting at one of the stops during the pm rush hour. When the bus made the oblique turn way too fast at 25 miles per hour she was either too close to the edge or standing in the street when she was hit by the side view mirror across the face and the left side of her head.
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She went down under the wheels and her body got hung up under the chassis. The bus driver too full of passengers to stop, or late for his break, or just too coked up to notice, kept on heading for the Embarcadero before he realized something was wrong. By then, the woman had been dragged over a quarter of a mile. No one knew for sure whether the concussion from the mirror or the relentless dragging was the cause of death. I guess it didn’t matter to her anymore, one way or the other. It mattered to a lot of those who witnessed the whole thing though; screaming and yelling, block after block, trying to get the bus driver to stop.
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To get across the Bay to San Francisco from Oakland or back, one alternative to the nightmare bus commute was the B.A.R.T (Bay Area Rapid Transit). It was quiet, clean, air-conditioned, and fast. Traveling under the Bay, it could span the 13 miles in minutes. Once I’d reach the train station, by bus, from the Oakland side, I’d descend one of the many street-level entries to the below-ground turnstiles which led to the train platform. Of course, there were always hundreds of derelicts, homeless, hustlers, etc., hanging out by the turnstiles waiting for their chance to slip through and get on any one of the many trains that serviced the Bay Area, but sometimes, especially after a scuffle with B.A.R.T. Security or the San Francisco/Oakland Police, they’d scatter to the winds (or the shadows as it were) until everything calmed down and then they'd be back at it again, day and night.
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Almost every week I'd hear about someone falling, or being pushed, or jumping down onto the third rail, which would either short-circuit the line and knock out the power or if it was particularly grisly, halt service entirely. Because service resumption could take hours, waiting passengers would have to go back up and out onto the street and catch another train, take a cab or a bus or just walk or, as was often the case for me, run.
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Once, I remember running to the next stop when I was ascending to the upper peninsula because the previous connection didn’t show up which meant it would have added another 45 minutes to my commute. The choice was obvious and inevitable: I could either
“wait to be late” or go for it. I chose the latter.
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You just can't imagine what it’s like to run at a 20-degree angle uphill for about 2 miles while wearing dress slacks, dress shoes, a white shirt and tie, and a sports jacket, in San Francisco, during the summer, with the humidity until you’ve tried it. It’s, how should I say: exhilaratingly infuriating.
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Running, I came upon a stand-alone, transmission shop, right in the middle of a residential area. The owners must have paid a pretty penny to get away with that one. There were police cars, the fire department, a metro ambulance, the San Francisco Chronicle, and a marked County Coroner’s Office vehicle scattered around the shop.
Some people along with some of the employees: their first names embroidered on their shirts, were standing on the sidewalk just outside the property watching. They’d been there for about an hour when I stopped to ask one of them (Bob) what happened.
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Wearily he said:
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“The girl who worked in the office answering the phone and typing up orders was shot to death by her boyfriend. The boyfriend got away but she was still down there being processed. God, she was only 24 years old. They’ll catch him, though. He hasn’t got a chance.”
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'Nope,' I thought.
'In this town, I don’t expect he would.'
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I was late again when I got home. Vaulting the 5 floors to reach our loft, I held my friend close, the entire night. She was ok with that. So was I.=