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Author: Official Trailers
Bio: Watch the latest Bollywood and Hollywood movie Trusted Official Trailers!

Liked It: 8122 Votes
average Ratings: 8 / 10
runtime: 1 h 47min
Drama
Writed by: Edmond Wong, Lai-Yin Leung
release date: 2019
Yip Man 4 free fall. I use to love painting, but now I dread even picking up a paintbrush. By this time tomorrow, I will be gone, and this will be all that is left of my story. I wanted to get my final thoughts out and share my story with someone who would understand, so that someone would know what I went through and why I had to do it. It all started four years ago..... I was working as a veterinary technician at a vet clinic, which is basically like being an animal nurse. I would assist the vets with surgeries, routine exams, xrays, and sometimes even heartbreaking euthanasias. The job was rewarding, but could also be very hard at times. The pay was pretty low, and it was long hours and hard work and it was emotionally difficult. Despite that, I really loved my job. I was overjoyed when a sick animal would recover, and it was rewarding to play a part in keeping peoples' precious little buddies healthy. Sometimes there would be cases that I would get really attached too. A dog that had been in our hospital ward for weeks, fighting to stay with us with a happy smile and a tail wag. A kitten who was so pitifully beat up but still mewing and trying to snuggle you. Sometimes they made it and it would make me so happy. And sometimes.... they didn't...... Those cases would stay with me long after they passed away. I would keep a straight face at work, only to shed tears the moment I was alone at home. I guess you could say that it might not have been the best line of work for someone who regularly struggled with depression. The pain of watching the families of these animals suffer was always hard. One day an elderly couple was having to euthanize their elderly golden retriever who had late stage cancer. Watching them sob and cry over their beloved pet was so painful and it broke something inside of me. When I got home that day, I was trying to bury my empathetic grief. I sat down on the couch with a extra cheesy pizza and smothered my feelings with the gooey cheese and Netflix. I was scrolling through shows when I ended up on Bob Ross. After watching a few episodes of his calming painting show, I was starting to feel better. Suddenly, I had an idea! I decided that I would try to paint the golden retriever and then give it to the couple as a way to honor and remember their wonderful friend. I had taken art classes in college for my electives, and I was definitely not an artistic genius, but I was decent at drawing animals. I gave it a try, pulling out my old acrylic paints and I got to work. Surprisingly, my painting actually came out fantastic! Even more surprising, I actually felt a lot better. I went to bed that night feeling much better than I had in a long time. When the couple came to pick up their dogs ashes (yes some people do request the cremation remains in a vase just like they do for humans) I gave them the painting I did of their dog. They wept with gratitude and love for their lost pet. I felt glad that I was able to give them some form of comfort to fill the void they were currently experiencing. From then on, when I had a medical case that I cared deeply about who didn't make it, I started painting the animals. For me, it was a form of therapy. I started feeling like even though I couldn't save them, I was immortalizing their memory somehow. Sometimes I would give the artwork to the families, and it always made them happy. But sometimes people were not as close with their animals as others, and if I felt like they wouldn't care, I would keep the paintings myself. Over the next two years, the artwork started to fill my tiny apartment. Every wall was covered in detailed paintings of dogs, cats, rabbits, snakes and lizards and even a few goats. Animals of all shapes and sizes lit up my world from the moment I woke up to the moment I went to sleep every night. A few friends of mine thought it was a bit excessive, and they would underhandedly critique my decorating choices with comments like, "That sure is a lot of animal pictures you have everywhere..... " But even though I noticed, I never really cared. It gave me joy, and it was something that I felt like I had a real talent for. With every painting I did, my skills grew. One day someone shared the artwork I made them online, and it ended up going viral. I had tons of people pouring into my facebook inbox, offering to commission me to paint their pets, relatives, and all manner of random things. Life was getting good for me, I ended up switching to only working part time at the clinic, and the rest of the time I spent working on painting commissions. I truly felt on top of the world! People everywhere wanted MY artwork! And it was artwork built on my passion for something I loved. I was making enough money to be able to move to a larger apartment and finally escape the tiny box that I had been living in. I had a savings account, financial stability, I met someone and started dating. and I was feeling on top of the world. All of this quickly went downhill with one fateful mistake. It had been a rough day at the clinic, a woman had brought in a little puppy that had been horribly injured. It had two broken limbs and a raging infection from what looked like bite wounds. From the cases we were getting in lately, the poor puppy had likely been the bait for a dog fighting ring. The woman had not brought the puppy in to treat its injuries, she brought it in to try to have it euthanized. We offered to take in the animal and treat it if she could not afford it, and tried to get her to surrender it. She refused, claiming that the animal was worthless and she wanted it euthanized. A huge fight ensued when we refused to do it and she claimed she would just take it somewhere else to "get rid of it", but it ended quickly when we threatened to report her to animal control and the police for engaging in animal abuse and dog fighting. She ended up surrendering the puppy to us, and he was quickly transferred to our hospital ward in critical condition. She left without so much as a second glance at the puppy. I was livid at the disgusting cruelty of some of the pet owners out there in the world. (I anonymously reported her for animal cruelty after my shift was over. ) The little puppy was a fighter, he had to undergo two surgeries to repair the destroyed tendons in his front leg, and was on heavy antibiotics to combat the raging infection from bite wounds in his abdomen and back. He charmed me like no other animal ever had before. I loved this sweet little creature who would try so hard to pick his little weak head up to lick my hand as I cleaned his wounds. His quiet little happy puppy yips when he was eating, as if he had never had a good meal in his life. Despite his horrible life he had suffered through thus far, he was so grateful to be alive. He loved any ounce of attention, craving one tiny sliver of love to brighten his dark world full of pain and misery. I named him Biscuit, and when he recovered I was going to adopt him. He was going to be my little buddy and he would never ever have to experience pain or suffering ever again. I spent every free moment I had by his side. He didn't make it past a week. The infection was too much for his poor little heart, and it took him sometime during the night. I was utterly heartbroken to walk into the hospital ward and see his poor broken and lifeless body laying there. He tried so hard to live, and I wasn't able to save him. I sobbed in the bathroom at work, and by the time I got home I felt hopelessly and utterly numb. I immediately went to my easel and pulled out my largest canvas and began to paint. As I ran my brush over the canvas, all of the pain and anger started to flow out of me. I was seething with pure hatred and it was pouring out of my veins and onto my canvas. I hated the horrible woman for her horrible treatment of a poor defenseless creature. I hated that there was nothing I could do to save an innocent soul. I hated that humans were such worthless pieces of garbage and so full of disgusting hate and cruelty. Tears ran down my face, but I just kept going on. At some point, I reached into my brush bag and stabbed my palm on an Exacto knife that I had been clumsy and forgotten to put the cap on. I stared at the pool of blood in my palm, feeling nothing. I don't know what came over me, but I didn't get up and clean myself up. I just continued to paint. The blood dripped down my arm and onto my paint pallet, mixing with the paint and to my unwell state of mind, it looked stunning. I let the blood flow, mixing with the paint on my canvas and pulling all of the anger and hatred from my soul. I reveled in the warm slippery feeling of the blood flowing down my arms and the way it smeared so beautifully on the canvas. The anger felt good, I was thriving in the feeling of it. I giggled to myself as I began to feel lightheaded. At some point I must have blacked out. The next day, I was woken up by my mom screaming bloody murder in my doorway. Everything is kind of a blur from that day, but I remember finding myself laying in a pool of drying blood. I remember looking at her face, and seeing this look of utter disgust as she stared at something behind me. I wondered what she was looking at, and when I tried to lift my head I found that I couldn't. I lay on the floor, paralyzed in my own mind as paramedics flooded through my door and hauled me up. When they were wheeling me out on a stretcher, I could see the masterpiece that I had created the night before. Instead of the usual happy animal painting that I typically created, the image laying before me was a gruesome scene splattered with my own blood. The image depicted a giant version of Biscuit, ripping the woman's entrails out of her stomach with one paw while he smashed her face with the other. The image was so highly detailed that I saw one of the paramedics visibly cringe and avert his eyes. I didn't remember painting anything like that before I lost consciousness. I was beginning to loose consciousness again, but before the door shut as I was rolled out of the room, I could swear that I saw the corner of Biscuit's blood-splattered mouth turn up into a smirk. My mom and all the doctors thought I had attempted suicide despite me protesting that I had just cut my hand. Since I was unable to explain the revolting imagery in the painting with any clear reason, they assumed I was lying. I was not allowed to be alone for a while and was put on suicide watch. At first I was annoyed, but soon, strange things began to happen and I was grateful not to be alone. The first hallucination happened a few days later. I was stepping out of the shower and looking in the mirror when I noticed something moving out of the corner of my eye in my reflection. The frog painting behind me, directly next to the shower was empty. All that remained was a blank canvas. My heart started pounding quickly in my chest as I quickly turned around to look at the painting, only to find it hanging on the wall, completely normal. I shook my head, thinking the steam in the mirror was just playing tricks on me. However, when I looked back in the mirror, the frog was gone again. I stared closely at the reflection, afraid to breathe and I blinked several times to make sure I was seeing it correctly. Suddenly, the frog slid back into the canvas from some invisible place, but this was not the frog I knew. It's eyes were bulging out of it's skull and blood dripped from its mouth. It looked me directly in the eyes, and I screamed. My boyfriend had been on "watch the crazy girl" duty that day, and he came slamming into the bathroom in a panic. I tried to explain and pointed at the mirror, but he didn't see anything unusual about the painting. Feeling like a lunatic, I quickly shut up and just said that I saw a cockroach on the painting. He sighed, visibly relieved and went about trying to find the mythical cockroach. We had barely been dating less than a year, and he luckily didn't remember that I wasn't scared of insects... I quit my job at the clinic after that, needing a break from all of the death for my mental health. The word had gotten out that I had been in the hospital, although no one knew why. Commissions for paintings for people skyrocketed, so I stayed busy working on my artwork the majority of the time. My mother hid the gruesome painting of Biscuit under a drop cloth in the corner of the living room. I didn't want to look at it anymore because it gave me the creeps to think about the sick state of mind I had been in the night that it was painted, so I listed it online for sale. The artwork ended up selling for twenty thousand dollars and is now in some millionaire's private gallery in New York. I continued to have nightmares about people being violently mauled by dogs every night for the next few months. I tried to go to a therapist to get some help, but the drugs they prescribed me weren't really doing much to help. I tried to get better, I really did. I knew something was wrong with me, that I was not in a good state if mind. I tried to seek help from going to therapy, but I was too scared to go into too much detail about what was going on in my head because I didn't want to be committed to a mental hospital. I tried to explain the hallucinations, but the more I talked about them, the worse they got. I felt like they were punishing me for revealing them. I didn't really get much help from therapy, they just kept telling me that everything that happened was caused by too much stress. I was working hard on restoring my mental health, and since I had made so much money on the bloody painting, I was lucky enough to do that. I was finally beginning to feel like myself again after the incident, when I started noticing something strange. On the news, I realized that several people who had died mysterious gruesome deaths had familiar names and faces. I knew those faces, because I had spent endless hours painting them. At first I thought that it must have been a coincidence, but the more I looked into it, the more people I had painted seemed to be dying. I started to become obsessed, recording every episode of the local news and endlessly combing through mortuary records online. I was making myself sick, and everyone I knew could tell that something was wrong. I knew I couldn't tell anyone, because I didn't want to end up locked up in a mental hospital again, so I kept pretending nothing was wrong. The more digging I did, the more convinced I became that the deaths were somehow my fault. Time started to fly by, weeks and months passing in the blink of an eye. When I looked at the clock on the wall that I had painted a smiling calico cat on, and it's innocent mouth would slip into a sinister smile that made me want to vomit, so I stopped looking at it. I was spiraling, I don't know how, but somehow I was killing people. The moment I realized that, the world started closing in on me. I tried to reason with myself that it was just a coincidence, but there was no way that I could rationally explain it. Over 200 people had bought artwork form me in the last year, and all of them were dead in horrifically gruesome ways. On the news, I could watch report after report of strange violent deaths all over the country. One of them tripped and fell off of the side of a building and tore their skull in half on the corner of a phone booth. Another one passed out while working and fell face first into a deep fryer. A child slipped while climbing on top of the monkey bars on a playground, and snapped her neck. She was found dangling there by the teacher who went to look for her when she never came back inside after recess. While I was watching the news, I could see the paintings in my house moving out of the corners of my eyes. If I looked directly at them, they were still and normal, but when they were in my peripheral vision or in a mirror, they moved and came to life. A month after I broke up with my boyfriend and shut myself off from everyone in my life other than my mom, they started talking to me. Whispering things, awful things. They muttered and mumbled and the more I listened to them, the more I could clearly understand their speech. I never understood what they meant for a long time though. "Why did you trap us here? Stuck to rot away in agony. " "Our souls are bound together now. When will you join us? " "You did this to us. Why can't we be free? " "Soon you will join us, slip into the painting and we can be together again. " "If you join us, we will all finally be free" On many occasions, I thought about burning the paintings to escape their torment, but I was afraid. Not afraid that anything bad would happen to me, but afraid of being alone. The beings in the canvas terrified me, but they were my only friends. At this point two years had passed since the night Biscuit died. The man who bought his painting was mauled to death by his own dogs. The coroners report said that they ate his eyes. All of this had started on that awful night, I became something else. I was no longer a healer of the innocent animals, I was a vicious murderer that had unknowingly murdered hundreds of people. I couldn't paint anymore, because my artwork carried a death sentence. I found out that after the painting of Biscuit was born, even peoples pets that I had painted had died not long after they received the artwork. I know that it sounds insane, but I even did a few tests to make sure it was real. I painted a bird that landed on my window-seal, and an hour later it flew into my window at full force and splattered itself across the glass. I painted a child molester that was shown on TV, and the next day he was stabbed to death in prison. I can't say I feel too bad about that one though, he got what he deserved. I just wanted to help animals and make people happy... but on that night, I cursed myself. Last night I stood in my living room, staring at the paintings that cover the walls, and they told me how to stop it all. They looked back at me, finally showing their true selves while I looked straight at them. Blood flowed steadily from the eyes of every animal, dripping down the walls and pooling on the carpet below. They told me what I had to do to fix what I had done. The only way to redeem myself for what I had done. There was only one way to set the souls free of all of the animals and people who were eternally trapped in the artwork. Soon we will all be free, and now everyone knows my story. Tonight I will pick up my paintbrush for the last time, and create my final masterpiece. A self portrait, painted with my own crimson blood.

Ppl in 2019 are like: thats billy from stranger things and jasmine from Aladdin. Yip Man 4 Free full article. Yip Man 4 Free full. So many dirty moves by Ip Man. It's hardly fair. Leth thee who fith ah the fathest.

Suara google bikin muak. This ip man's dad was an Australian. Yuen wo ping needs to the fight choreographer and action director for the new movie; marvel's shang chi the legend of the ten rings. Yip Man 4 Free full article on maxi. Bang berarti film nya itu hanya fiksi ya? berarti cerita ipman ngalahin petinju,jendral jepang dan kepala tentara itu hanya boongan? jawab bang🙏.

0:22 whoelse is from Sacramento. ENJOY Tämä on uusin elokuvien katselusivusto, jossa on hyvä laatu. ➡. Yip Man 4 free full version. Yip Man 4 free full text. IP man believed that Bruce was progressing his teachings by adding to it an evolving his style. They were on great terms an Bruce had a tremendous respect an love for IP man. Yip man 4 free full. I feel like sooner or later, Ip Man will become one of the most famous franchises in history. Yip man 4 free full movie.

I cant wait to see the movie. Wow, I didn't realize that Chinese 'emperors' the name of the film company) wore crowns (their logo) like Europeans did way back eresting. I have to admit, Mike Tysons performance in this fight-scene is really good.

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Yip Man 4 free falling. Film paling dicari di 2019. I watched this movie yesterday, it was fantastic. Wonder woman : swings on lightnings spider man has left the chat.

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Warning: long post. TL;DR at the bottom. Hello r/golf! I am here to share with you the tale of two fittings. Over the past week, I have been fitted for irons at two different locations, a big box store and a Top 100 fitter, and the experience (and result) was truly night and day. First, a little about me. I am a 30-year old male, I am 6 feet tall on my driver’s license 😉 and am a decently athletic 210 lbs (I go to the gym but it’s obvious I like cookies). I have also been “gifted” with freakishly long arms (~78 inch wingspan) and have always felt I needed a shorter club to compensate. I have been golfing for fun since high school and played quite a bit in college (1x per week) and was probably about a 18-20 HCP at the time (didn’t track officially but was a “bogey golfer”). After college, I got married, life got busy, and I only played once or twice a year at various charity scrambles. I picked up the game again last summer playing a couple times a month and recently have been playing 1-2x per week. I am currently a 24 HCP and trending down. I’ve taken several lessons over the years and have a pretty solid, generally repeatable iron full-swing. The limiting factors for my handicap are currently lost balls off the tee, low GIR%, and pitching/chipping yips. I play a high sweeping draw with my irons and miss the majority of greens left. Enough about me, onto the good stuff. Current gamers: Adams Idea Tech OS, 3-4 hybrid, 5-PW, stiff graphite shaft (stock shaft), 7 iron carry is ~150-155 yards. “Big Box Store” fitting On a whim, I walked into a big box store on a Wednesday evening to inquire about scheduling an iron fitting the next day. I was the only customer in the store with three employees. To their credit, I was approached right away and offered assistance. I asked about scheduling a fitting the next day and they offered to do the fitting right then and there if I was ready because “they were bored and needed something to do”. Sure, why not, I had my clubs in my car. “No need for those” I was told. Hmmm…. I was given the chance to warm up and they asked if I had any clubs in mind that I wanted to swing. I told them I for sure wanted to hit the Ping G410s and the Mizuno Hot Metals (because reddit). I also explained my concerns about shaft length and my tendency to miss left (pull draw). The two guys helping me both nodded, seeming to acknowledge my concerns, and set up the G410 for me to swing first. I’ll be honest, it was love at first swing. Just wow! I hit 5-10 balls with the Ping, the Hot Metals, and the Taylor Made M6s on the same shaft and the Ping was the clear winner for me. I loved the feel, it was very forgiving, the flight path and distance looked consistent on the simulator, though I was seeing a slight push fade on the majority of shots. “Dude you are crushing these 180! ”, they said. Next they switched shafts. The difference was apparent, I could definitely feel the shaft flexing at the top of my swing. “This is definitely the shaft for you man. You are launching it higher and getting more spin. ” I am a high ball hitter, and spin/stopping power has never been an issue for me on the course (when I hit greens that is lol). I was also still seeing a push fade, the exact opposite of my current miss. When I asked about this I was told “That’s just your swing bro, not much we can do to fix that. ” Yeah, ok... They never offered to show me the simulator numbers. Next they put impact tape on the face and had me hit off a lie board. I was consistently hitting just inside of middle towards the heel and two degrees upright. “That explains your push, your digging the toe a bit, causing the face to open up a bit and hit towards the heel. A lie adjustment will fix that right up. ” I asked if I could hit an adjusted club and was told no, they couldn’t adjust their fitting club. “Trust us, we are confident we have your fitting right. ” The entire fitting took about 20 minutes and maybe 50-60 swings total. “We can have them ready for you tomorrow. ” I politely declined and was told I had 30 days to purchase and recover the cost of the fitting. While I had fun, I didn’t really trust the result and didn’t feel comfortable making the purchase. I got the impression I was fitted to clubs they had in stock so they could complete a sale. I wanted a second opinion. “Big Box Store” Result: Ping G410 black dots bent 2 degs upright, 4-AW, AWT 2. 0 shaft, regular flex, standard length, standard grips. “Top 100 fitter” fitting After my experience at the big box store, I called a “Top 100” fitter located about 70 miles away to schedule an iron fitting. I completed this fitting yesterday morning. At the time of scheduling, I was told to bring my own clubs, expect the fitting to take about an hour, and to be prepared to hit about 100 balls, not including warm-ups. When I arrived, I was directed to a hitting bay to warm up with my own clubs. After a few minutes, one of the fitters came by and introduced himself and watched me swing a few more times. Once I was warm, he grabbed my bag and took me back to the hitting bay with the simulator set up. He interviewed me, asking me what my handicap was, what my overall golf goals are, and what my goals are for this fitting. I explained my concerns regarding my long arms and shaft length and stated I wanted help eliminating my pull draw miss. He performed a wrist-to-floor measurement and told me standard length should be perfect for me, “but we’ll see what the results show”. First, he had me hit about 5 shots with my current 7 iron. As expected, all of them started straight or slightly left and continued to move left, landing at about ~155 yards and ~15-20 yards left. I felt somewhat vindicated seeing the same results on the simulator that I see on the course. The fitter brought me over to the computer and showed me my side spin was really high (in the 1000-1500 rpm range) and said that was the primary issue he would be looking to correct during the fitting. He also showed me my launch angle was in the high range of normal for a 7 iron and my spin was low range of normal so he would be keeping a close eye on those two things as we progressed through the fitting. He also said a heavier (steel) shaft would help me not pull the ball as my hands were getting a little ahead during my swing. He also noted a slightly larger grip could benefit me as I tend to release my hands a little early during the downswing which could be contributing to me pulling the ball. He diagnosed all these things in 5 swings. I was already impressed. He asked me if I had done any research on what clubs I wanted to hit. I told him I had recently hit the G410s and really liked them, but was open to try anything he saw fit. He said those are great clubs, but he wanted me to hit the Mizuno Hot Metal Pros also. I hit 5 shots with each head, then he swapped shafts on each (both the same) and I hit 5 more shots each. The G410s were the easy winner for me and he concurred based on the simulator results. I was consistently getting more ball speed and carry with the G410s with a tighter dispersion. The fitter was messing around with my current 7 iron and noticed it was longer than the standard Ping 7 iron. He looked up the specs for those irons and noticed they were half an inch longer than standard! I guess than explains the longer club sensation I was experiencing! Next the fitter started dialing in the shaft and other specs. Another guy had joined in and was watching me swing. The two of them were talking back and forth, both building clubs and having me swing 4-5 times with each club they built. I was starting to hit some absolute lasers and was having tons of fun! Finally, they swapped out the grip and had me hit a few more. After a couple of swings to adjust to the new grip, I hit arguably my best 3-4 balls of the day. About ~170 carry starting dead center with a baby draw. The fitter seemed pleased and was happy to show me the side spin he had been looking to reduce was <150 rpm on my last several swings, with a launch angle and spin rate he was satisfied with. Next, he began asking me about bag construction. He asked if I liked my 3 and 4 hybrid and if I was comfortable hitting them off the deck. I explained I do but had a tendency to hook them to oblivion. He brought out a Ping G410 hybrid and put in a shaft he thought would work for me to swing and I hit it very well. He also noted I already carried a gap wedge (50 deg Ping Gorge) so I wouldn’t need the set AW if I liked that club (favorite club in my bag! ). “Top 100 Fitter” Result: Ping G410 green dots (2 deg upright), 5-PW, Nippon Modus 105 shaft, stiff flex, standard length, midsize grips. Ping G410 3 hybrid (19 degs), Tensi Blue 80 gram shaft, standard length, midsize grip. The fitter recommended I play a few rounds and see if I liked hitting the 3 hybrid or 5 iron better before filling the 4-iron slot. He also regripped all of my wedges (50, 54, 60) to midsize and bent them 2 degs upright free of charge. TL;DR I was fitted for irons at a big box store and a “Top 100 fitter”. While the conclusions drawn were not vastly different between these two locations, I felt much more confident in and empowered by the “Top 100 fitter”, the experience was significantly better. The fitter took the time to address my concerns and explain what he was doing step-by-step. At no time did I feel rushed or like he was rushing to complete the process; he was very thoughtful and detail oriented. He also took into account my existing bag and didn’t try to force unnecessary clubs upon me. The level of comfort I felt with this fitter resulted in me purchasing the clubs from them and I will be returning there for any future golf club related business (driver fitting in the near future). Now the wait begins until they arrive!

你愛中國有人愛中共，我愛漢民族，死中國胡人族流氓狗牙. How many fights do you want in this movie? Donnie: Y E S. Yip man 4 free full movie in english. That was some DEPRESSING shit, But. AWESOME. It was a little hard to process the complicated mess that Milo and Lewis laid out before us in that candy shop. I mean, as a reader it would be hard enough to follow, but try being in my shoes--er, paws. I was the one who had to absorb all of that word vomit. Quick recap: the Tree of Life is asleep, I'm trapped in one of its dreams, my body is dead, the Jabberwocky is in my head, and Brer Fox and Baloo are my imaginary friends. You got all that? No? Neither do I. Milo and Lewis were ushering us up the road from Zuri's Sweets shop, through one of the bamboo forest areas. Lewis was walking with confidence; shoulders wide, arms swinging, feet marching with childlike excitement. He never was one for caution in his movie. Milo, by contrast, was hunched over; one arm wrapped around himself, the other clinging to his hair, glancing back and forth like he expected to see someone tailing us--or worse, jumping out to attack us. It wasn't like we could see anything in this fog. There was the occasional silhouette that might be someone walking past in the distance, but it was impossible to tell. Here, in the bamboo forest, the mist clung to the trees like a hankie stabbed over some toothpicks. It just went up and up into the greenery, only pierced by crawling shoots and the odd creaking whisper. I wondered if the dreams that were further up in the "Branches, " as Milo had called it--the good dreams--had fog like this. After all, Lewis's little marker-drawn picture of the Sleeping Tree showed us being at the top of the "Roots, " i. e. the bad dreams. But, 'm just kind of pretending to understand something I don't get at all. Brer Fox and Baloo were standing close by either side of me, which I appreciated, now that I was a literal scaredy-cat. (I really wish I'd known about my stupid Make Things Real abilities before I'd mutated myself willy-nilly. ) Baloo was keeping a close eye on me, nudging his paws at my back if I slowed and steadying my shoulder if I stumbled over those stupid Stitch-feet. I guess without Mowgli around, he was kind of desperate for a kid to parent over. The little idiot who dreamed him up is the next best thing, right? I don't think either of us really got how that worked, but I still appreciated having a gigantic bear on my side, even if he was babying me a bit. He was taller than the Big Bad Wolf that killed, or I guess, "captured, " my boss. I was hoping we wouldn't run into the Wolf again, but the Jabberwocky's barely audible giggling in my head wasn't reassuring on that front, so at least I had a great, big, Papa Bear willing to help me out. Brer Fox, on the other hand, was ignoring me. Or at least, avoiding eye contact. I was pretty sure he wasn't upset with me, since we'd sort-of-kind-of made up about not finding Brer Bear. But, it didn't sound like Brer Bear was even here at all, at least not in this dream, and so all Brer Fox had was me. Finding out I'd made him up was a weird revelation for both of us. The Brer Fox from the cartoon wasn't really endeared to anyone, but as I'd concluded before, this wasn't the Brer Fox from the cartoon. He was someone entirely different, and I don't think even he quite knew what that meant yet. We certainly didn't know what to say to each other about it. Hopefully this uncomfortable state would fade over time, because both of us were too socially inept to fix it any faster. The bandages on my feet caught caught on yet another rock, and I tripped for what had to have been the fiftieth time. Yet again, Baloo caught me by the shoulder. "You gotta be more careful, kit. " I got another flashback to Tailspin and felt strangely guilty. After all, I was indirectly responsible for this bear walking around without his cubs. I grit my teeth, felt my head protest, and loosened my jaw. "Thanks, " I mumbled, reaching up to pat his arm. He wasn't looking at me, instead frowning at the bamboo with a furrowed brow. It could have been the man-made influence of the flora bothering him, but I was pretty sure it was the fog. The fog dripped from the trees like water and swirled around our feet in a pale, white lake. It made my cat tail shiver in the wet humidity, and a glance at my companions showed that their fur was spiking up the same way. Florida was humid enough as it was, but this wasn't Florida. It was a dream. And the fog was cold. The whispers in the fog lingered in my mind and gave me brain-freeze. There was another sharp giggle, and I twitched, gripping my wand tighter and holding it to my chest. The cold quieted a little. Brer Fox glanced at me, glanced at the wand, and stepped a little closer, but still said nothing. "Here we are! " Lewis announced up ahead. Milo shushed him admonishingly, and the two glared at each other. I bit back a groan, hoping they weren't about to argue again. I felt Brer Fox tense beside me. The fog was still too thick to make out our surroundings. I knew we were north of Zuri's, but I didn't know if we were closer to the hiking trail or the train. There was a tallish fixture standing in the mist, but it was hard to tell if it was a sign or a piece of decoration. Further past the fixture, I could make out a faint, yellow glow hidden by thick, tropical trees. Instead of spreading in the fog, the cloud seemed to swallow the light up. Luckily, Mr. Paternal Instinct on my other side spoke up. "Where is here? " The human toons stopped glaring and turned back to us, and I sighed with relief. For a guy who argued with Bagheera so much, Baloo was still pretty good at mediating. "Rafiki's Planet Watch, " Milo answered far more softly. Ah, so the fixture would be the sign, then. "We have a contact on the other end who's been trying to get information on the Jabberwocky. She can help you figure out how to get rid of his influence. " "How much longer we gotta follow you t'get there? " Brer Fox was trying to sound gruff and snappy, I could tell, but his voice came out more tired than angry. I had to relate; a safe place to nap would be fantastic right about now. "Oh, don't worry, you won't. " Lewis jerked his thumb in the direction of the faint yellow glow. "You're on your own from here, we can't go with you. " "What? " I gasped in dismay. I'd just started getting used to the idea of having guides, even if I couldn't always understand them. Milo threw out his hands in frustration. "Lewis, your bedside manner is the worst. It's just the worst. You know that? Have I mentioned that? It's the worst. " Lewis shrugged, looking helpless. "Sorry. I can take classes in science, but not in comforting people. " I felt my urge to hit him, which I thought I left at the candy shop, rise up again. "Useless li'l brat, " Brer Fox growled under his breath, and I huffed with him. We both crossed our arms, the motion making our arms bump, and we had to uncross and recross a couple of times to get our elbows to overlap without getting tangled. Baloo rolled his eyes at us and stepped forward so he wouldn't have to look at our pouting. "Why can't you go with us? " he asked, like a reasonable adult. "We don't know our way around here. " I did, but I wasn't about to say that; this wasn't the park I was starting my secretary job in this morning. "How are we gonna find this person so they can help us? We'll get lost. " A frigid breeze blew by, and I shivered, blowing a frosted puff of breath. Brer Fox didn't glance at me this time, but did push a little harder into my side. The wand was a little, warm beacon between us. Milo shook his head apologetically. "Yzma is expecting us to make progress on reopening the door. We have to at least look like we're doing something, or she'll get suspicious. " "W-what about. " I swallowed, forcing down the next shiver and tensing my jaw until it hurt just to keep it from chattering. "What about the Jabberwocky? He's in my head. He's heard everything you said. " Milo grimaced, and Lewis didn't look comfortable, but they didn't back down. "It will be less suspicious if we're with the others, when and if the Jabberwocky is able to get the news out, than if we're missing. " "Keep your wand out, " Lewis advised. "It will help. Just, don't keep it too bright. " My companions and I looked at my wand, then gave each other a confused look, though Brer Fox was careful not to meet my eyes. I tried not to show my hurt, instead looking at Baloo. He frowned again. "If her, Green Flower stick is what's keeping her from collapsing again, shouldn't she keep it as shiny as possible? " Lewis made a so-so sign with one hand. "Yes, but there are other dangers out there. Think of a campfire at night. Does that help you see what's in the woods, or does it help what's in the woods see you? " Something like panic crawled up and down my spine, making my tail fluff out with static. I could not begin to describe how much I hated everything about this place. Milo kept turning to look behind him, then turning away like he was afraid of what he would see. Was it really Yzma he was concerned about, or something else in the fog? "We need to go. You guys need to go, too. Get on the train, and you'll find our contact on the other side. I'm sorry we can't do anything more right now. Good luck. " Then he took Lewis's arm and walked back down the path, the child griping about the treatment but not pulling away. Soon, they'd vanished into the mist like they were never there at all. Brer Fox took a step like he wanted to pursue them, but Baloo held him back, steering us both towards the faint yellow glow. "We'd best get out of the open before we get into any more trouble. " The fox snarled halfheartedly at him, but didn't resist. I was hit with awareness for Baloo and Milo's similar positions; they were just trying to take care of their own wards. Even if I couldn't understand much of what Milo had said, I could understand that. I let out another icy breath and tried to release some frustration with it, allowing the bear to heard us into the train station. The yellow glow didn't get any brighter as we got near, but it got closer. It made a shape like a stable in the gloom, only opening up into a full facility when we were within five feet of the entrance. I could only tell that there were pillars on either side by the rectangular reflection the lanterns made on the walls; the glow was their shadow, instead of their light. My companions were silent, but the whispers weren't. The whispers liked this place. It took a second for me to realize that I was going to have to lead them into the station. I knew what the inside was supposed to look like, and they didn't; they were going to stand here, frozen and uncertain, until I moved. I guess that was a bit of me that I imparted into them. I took a steadying breath and held out my wand, and soft green light was the only thing able to penetrate the haze. I checked the other's faces for signs of disapproval--we had just been told that shining the light everywhere might not be safe. Brer Fox wouldn't even look at me enough to impatiently urge me onward. Baloo had to instead, much more gently and passively, which was kind of him, but not what I was looking for. My face was aching from tensing my jaw so much. I turned away and stomped into the station, knuckles white on the wand for more than one reason. He acted like it was my fault that I died and he came out incomplete. Jerk. I ignored the fact that I'd felt guilty about just that moments ago. The que fences around the station were dark, the metal dripping with condensation. Not a soul stood in line, which, I mean, why would they, but still. The train station was one of the more crowded ques in the park. It was wrong to see it so empty in the afternoon. It was afternoon, right? Did time here work the same way my phone tried to count it as? Emptiness should mean silence, but again, it was anything but. The whispers were everywhere. Above me, floating on the ceiling; below me, hiding below the fence rungs; drifting here and there in the air, all eager and conspiratory and excited for something. There wasn't even a bit of litter on the ground from the missing guests, which was different from everywhere else we'd been, but there were whispers. I tried to get a bead on the others to see if they could hear them, too. I did have the Jabberwocky in my head, but did that mean I should hear all these other voices, too? The fox and the bear scanned the area warily, but they didn't perk an ear or turn at the sound of a voice. Why was it only me? It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. The whispers got more eager as I reached the edge of the room, though I couldn't make out any of the words. If there were any words. Rising from the grave of the white murk was the Wilderness Train, empty as a robbed tomb. The miasma of fog poured over the top in a vaporous waterfall, creating a dome around the wooden interior. The doors all hung partially open, like the staff just left it in mid-prep and ran. Normally, the train's conductor or engineer would be hanging out of the engine's window to wave at people, but I couldn't even make out the engine's seat. Just a looming silhouette, a damp hint of rust, and nothing more. My head felt cold. Once I was close enough to make out the train seats--oddly dry, in spite of the Foggerfall (TM) flowing over the roof of the car--I was abruptly pushed aside as Brer Fox, par for the course, vaulted over the waist-high door to get in. I almost shouted at him, but then shut my mouth, clacking my teeth together so hard that I could imagine them cracking. Baloo came around me and grabbed the door, grunting as he forced it open wide enough for us to walk through. He swept out his arm. "Age before beauty. Uh, no wait, other way around. " I tried to smile at him, but ended up flopping down rather miserably beside Brer Fox in the car. He'd picked the furthest bench, which meant our backs were against the wall of the train. That could be good or bad depending on how an encounter went. Baloo tried to squeeze in, but had to make do with the front bench, his legs propped up on a parallel seat. The aisle simply wasn't built for bears. It only occurred to me that I didn't know how to start the train when the train started moving by itself. My heart skipped a beat. I had no idea who or what was in the engine car. Brer Fox and Baloo didn't seem to think anything was amiss with this, though, and I didn't want to worry them. Maybe whatever started the train was a friendly thing that just liked trains. Hopefully. None of us spoke as we left the station behind. Like Milo and Lewis before, it was swallowed by mist and gone from our sight. There was no announcer greeting us, no conductor to give us a witty tour of the wildlife preservation grounds. The jungle was invisible in all the white, blank as the void and just as silent. Even the whispers were quiet now. I felt my stomach drop. The silence was stifling. I couldn't breath. Then Baloo began quietly humming "The Bear Necessities" to himself, and I could breath again. The veil didn't lift, but it edged away from us a smidgen, out of the contact of my wand's light. Baloo watched the rolling whiteness go by outside, like he could see anything in it. Maybe he was trying to find something to see. I glanced again at Brer Fox. He was hunched over, head down, arms crossed, fur bristling. He still wouldn't look at me. Hurt roiled in my gut, playing in the empty space left by the fear pulling everything downwards. It wasn't fair. We were just doing okay, and now we weren't. What could I say to make this better? Or, at least, to make the discomfort go by faster? I bit my lip, trying to dampen down my frustration. "Um. " His ear twitched a little, but otherwise, he was still as a statue. "Uh. I. " Come on, just use your words! Move your lips, it's something everyone can do! Well, most people. Some people use Sign Language instead, but that's still a valid means of communication. Communication was the important part. There could be no friendship without it. "Thanks, " I finally mumbled, feeling like an idiot, but at least saying something. "For being here, " I added, to clarify. For a moment, he didn't react, and I thought he was going to just ignore me. Then his head lifted a little, and so did my hopes. "Didn't ask to be here. " My hopes crashed and burned, shot down by the hurt that was making a warzone of my insides. "What? Of course you didn't! Neither did I! We didn't choose for any of this to happen. " The fox's head rose, and now I could see the same burning hurt in his own eyes. "You brought me here, din'cha? Plucked me outta my neck of the woods and dropped me in this cesspit wit'ye! " I shook my head, unable to believe my ears. In the background, Baloo's humming drifted serenely on, either oblivious to our noise or trying to drown us out. "Not by choice! I didn't want the Jabberwocky to bring me here, and I certainly didn't want to die! " My voice cracked on that last word. It was still hard to believe. Brer Fox's muzzle curled in doubt. "The eye monster's in yer head, now, though. You said y'could hear 'im. " Baloo's humming grew louder, and I felt a cold finger poke my brain. There was a distant giggle. "I didn't want that, either! I didn't want any of this, I never-" I pinched the bridge of my nose. This argument was going nowhere, we were both just saying the same thing and he couldn't see that. "Look, if I bother you so much, you don't have to stick around. You can go if you need to. But, up until now, you stayed, and you helped, and I thought you cared. " My voice quieted; I hadn't realized I'd raised it until now. "That's why I was thanking you. " The thought of him leaving filled me with dread. He was my first ally here. I would make do with just Baloo, if I had to, but I wanted them both there with me. Maybe that was selfish of me. He looked uncomfortable, the anger in his eyes slowly being replaced by something unfamiliar. His ears flicked, and he fixed a glare Baloo's way. "Quit yer warblin', I ain't hearin' myself think! " I frowned and turned to Baloo. I wouldn't have called it warbling; I'd always thought he had a nice singing voice in the movie, but he was being really loud. He didn't quiet down now, either. Brer Fox growled unhappily at being ignored. I reached over to tap the bear's shoulder. "Er, Baloo? Could you hum a little quieter, it's-" My hand went through him. Brer Fox froze beside me, and I slowly turned back to him, both of our eyes wide. Then ice shot up my veins and I snatched my arm back with a shout. I couldn't hear my shout, though. I could only hear the humming. It was all around us. Seeping in through the mist that reached grasping fingers through the slatted wall. It thrummed through the benches and rattled through the speakers. The fox grabbed his hat and pulled it down over his ears, searching wildly for the source. The cold spread up my arm and into my head, melding with the hum into a dull throb. Shaking, I raised the wand and its light grew brighter, illuminating the train car. It deepened the shadows on our faces, except for Baloo--the rays went right through him and into the white beyond. The cold receded, and the humming left our brains, only to grow much louder outside. It was like a hundred elephants were chasing down the train, gaining ground each second, lessening the distance with each decibel raised. "Why isn't this working? " I tried to shout, but again, I couldn't hear myself. Brer Fox yanked on my arm and pointed at the nothingness that the now-translucent Baloo was still looking into. It wasn't quite so nothing anymore. Dark shapes were becoming clearer in the fog, and they were getting bigger the longer I looked. I raised my arm higher. Maybe I could shoot them down before they reached us. The fox yanked on my arm again, pulling the wand down to waist height. I gave him an incredulous look, and he shouted something indecipherable. Reading his lips was nearly impossible, given that he had a snout, so all I could make out was a couple syllables that looked like, "camp fire. " Oh. Oh, crap. I hugged the wand to my chest, once again cursing my role as an Idiot Horror Protagonist. The light was a beacon of warmth, sure, and a beacon of a free buffet for any hungry monsters nearby. I shook the wand, wishing the light into dimness, please, please. The dark shapes seemed to be nearly within reach of the train car. Could Baloo not see them? Could they see Baloo? Brer Fox spun me around and braced his arms on my shoulders, trying to block some of the light. Slowly, slowly, the green glow lowered in intensity, then flickered, then went out. As it did, the cold returned full force, making my whole side ache all the way up through my skull. I was shaking uncontrollably, too afraid to turn my head and see if the shapes were climbing into the train car. Fox claws dug into my shoulder blades, and I knew they were going to leave another mark. The humming was loud, loud, loud in my head, rocking the whole locomotive with its weight. Then, like the light, the rocking slowed to a rattle, then sighed to a stop. All was dark. All was quiet. Quiet as a robbed grave. "You kits okay? Is she having another episode? " Our heads snapped up to find Baloo, solid and lucid, giving us a very confused expression. The train had stopped, and I could now see the thick, rubbery leaves of the jungle trees dripping in the fog. My ears were popping like we'd changed air pressure. There was nothing else in the car; not a sound, not a silhouette. We were alive. We were okay. I let out a long wheeze and slumped against Brer Fox, my head thunking against his collarbone. He wheezed in response, pushing me away and vaulting out of the train. I fell back the other way and laid flat on the bench. The fog was still seeping through the slats in the wall, but so was some outside light. I never wanted to see another void of nothingness again, but I had a feeling it wouldn't be the last. I was just wondering why I hadn't heard any giggling since the cold started, when Baloo's head came into view, a halo of mist forming around his fur. "Did something happen on the way? I didn't hear anything from you, you were just quiet, so I thought you were napping. " I met his eyes, ready to explain, and that's when I heard the giggle. I flinched and looked at his chin instead. "I'll... I'll explain later. " Baloo didn't look satisfied, but he didn't press the matter. He reached a paw down, and I took it, letting him help me up onto my feet. I started to let go, but he pulled my arm back, frowning deeply at it. I looked to see what was the matter, My whole arm was coated in ice. From fingertip to shoulder blade--still stinging from the fox claws--there was a thick, hard shell, like a frozen glove. I gently pried my hand from Baloo's grip and tested my fingers, moving my arm. It could move fine. It felt cold, sure, but not hurting as bad as it should be. Not as bad as when we were in transit and my arm moved through Baloo's image. My lips trembled, but I was tired of crying and did my best to hold it back. I wondered if the tension in my jaw would ever fade. "That's... not good. " "Looks pretty not good, yeah, " Baloo breathed. "When did that happen? " I didn't know what to say to that. "You two comin' out or what? " Our other companion snapped from outside. Baloo turned, and I used the opportunity to snake past him, dashing through the open door. It had opened fully on its own this time. I peered at the engine car, but it was no clearer than it had been at the first station. Brer Fox was leaning against a pillar, half bent, catching his breath. I was reminded of our exit from the clinic and shuddered. My movement caught his eye, and then my arm did much moreso. He snatched it and I yelped; his claws tapped at the ice and it felt like he was scraping my skin. "Ow, that hurts! " His hands stilled, and gave me the same concerned frown Baloo was wearing. I felt disproportionately relieved despite the situation; at least he didn't look angry anymore. His anger must have been brewing since we first entered the candy shop, and I really didn't want it to build up further. I just wanted us to be friends. "This happened when... " He nodded his head at Baloo, who was still squeezing out of the train. I grimaced and nodded. "I don't think he knew it was happening. He didn't mean it. " I'd phrased it that way for a reason. I would think that this was just something else taking advantage of the situation to hurt me, but the ice first started in my head when I met Baloo's eyes at Zuri's. Now, the ice first started outside my head when something made me phase through Baloo. There was something going on with the bear, but he didn't know it, and he wasn't trying to do it. He was a victim like any of us. The fox hrmed noncommittally. "Seems like none of us did. " My shoulders slumped. "Yeah... yeah. " There was a huff and a pop as Baloo finally fell out of the car and onto his face. I reached to help him up, but Brer Fox subtly held me back and slid forward instead, yanking the bear to his feet and almost making all three of us tumble to the ground. "Do you think this person we're meeting can help fix your arm? " Baloo was breathing hard, and had trouble getting the words out. "I hope so. " I had no idea, so it was all I could say. "We ain't gonna know nothin' 'till we find 'em. " Brer Fox gestured to the path away from the station, which led into yet more mist-enshrouded woods. Yay. He must have seen the displeasure on my face, because he linked elbows with my good arm and started dragging me forward. I squawked and flailed for Baloo. "Wait, wait, not this again! " The fox was not to be deterred, though. Either the talk on the train had made him feel guilty, or he was striving with all his heart to keep from having to talk about his feelings some more. He'd flipped a switch and gone from Avoidance Mode to Enthusiastically Overresponsible Mode, and it was all Baloo could do to run after us. "Hold on, we don't even know where we're going! " "The big one makes a good point! " remarked the baboon that was now directly in our way. "You might want to stop and ask for directions! " Well, we stopped alright. But, it was when Brer Fox went running full tilt into the tall monkey, making a high pitched, yipping noise upon impact. Which led to me slamming into the fox, which led to Baloo slamming into both of us, which led to all of us tangled in a pile on the ground. Rafiki hadn't been moved an inch by the crash. He laughed at us; a cackle that would have been creepy, normally, but now was far more pleasant in comparison to the Jabberwocky's voice. It was so much warmer. "Watching where you're going would be a good improvement, too! ".

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