2012.07.23 06:44 thefourthhouse Screaming Fish
2009.11.12 01:59 josetavares South Florida
2012.06.04 00:35 kbiering cookingvideos: a video subreddit on how to cook
2023.05.31 02:04 jetsfan8 Best food in Hatteras?
2023.05.31 02:03 Good-Bye_Gluten You are Awesome sauce!
2023.05.31 02:02 batalieee Swim bladder issue? Bloody parrot fish
2023.05.31 02:02 ThrowAwayToWind Rescue dog is absolutely terrified
2023.05.31 02:02 Glumalon [CR Media] Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom One-Shot Live Discussion
2023.05.31 02:01 batalieee Swim bladder issue? Bloody parrot fish
2023.05.31 02:00 BlueArchiveMod Daily Questions Megathread May 31, 2023
2023.05.31 02:00 Scary-Swordfish-8387 Asus Tuf 4090/ 4090 owners/ Hardware enthusiasts attention please
So recently within the past month I bought a Tuf 4090 from microcenter when it came into stock at $1600. It was one of one brand new. This is the reason I returned my Suprim X 4090, because I didn’t want to have to spend all that extra on nothing. Obviously Tuf/Strix and Suprim/Gaming trio all have the same PCB minus a few phases. The other reason I wanted Asus was their full 600w bios without having to flash and I like to run my PC all on one software anyways. I refused to spend the extra $200 on the OC model for a bios flash and only a 45mhz core clock OC no I’m okay. So I finally got the specific model I wanted other than the founders. My issue is overtime my temps have increased and gotten much worse. Specifically the hotspot and fan speed. When gaming in just regular 1440p playing a game like MW2 or Hogwarts Legacy, no upscaling or ray tracing my hotspot can hit max up to 96c. 102c in furmark. I’ve undervolted and it’s fixed the horrific hotspot temps and it’s down to like 82c max with core temp being 66c max and about 60c average. When it’s stock I average 65c on the core 2 or 3c higher on memory and then like a 20c 25c difference on the hotspot which is horrific because my fans are blazing at 63%. The first few weeks temps were perfectly fine and matched the Suprim. My only options taking it back are either return it and grab a zotac 4090 or a gigabyte both of which I don’t want, won’t pay a crazy amount extra, just won’t do it. Should I rma with Asus and or repaste the card myself? Experience with Asus rma? This is the card I want to keep. If I take it back I’m just giving up on the 4090 altogether and buying a 4080. I’ve already been through 4 4090’s trying to find the right one. I’m over it. I should mention this card has a god bin and clock to 3.1ghz stable but that’s quickly downclocked because of temps now. Case is a Lancool II mesh with positive pressure intake. Arctic fans with a Deepcool LS720 360mm aio as intake.I’ve already tried push pull and it doesn’t make much of a difference from having fans mounted bottom intake.submitted by Scary-Swordfish-8387 to nvidia [link] [comments]
2023.05.31 02:00 Idiot_Unknown Saw this on my friends status is it real?
Please helpsubmitted by Idiot_Unknown to teenagers [link] [comments]
2023.05.31 01:58 EcoWitch Husband and I have different opinions on what food should be kept stocked for our kid
2023.05.31 01:57 transcribersofreddit NonPoliticalTwitter Image "Everything the Piss touches is your Kingdom."
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2023.05.31 01:57 kumakami89 chicken tenders mayo bacon bits and fried onion sandwich
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2023.05.31 01:57 EeyoreManiac 'Shazam! Fury of the Gods' Movie and 4K/Blu-ray Review
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2023.05.31 01:56 AcidSilver Respect Death (Have A Nice Death)
"Get back to work."
Each of Death's spells consume a portion of his max mana reserves that automatically fills back up unless fully drained in which case it refills after a few seconds. While he starts the game with a low amount of mana that can be increased with items, this appears to be a gameplay mechanic as he is described as being able to increase his mana reserves at will and far beyond what the game will allow with the Focus spell.
2023.05.31 01:56 TileFloor STUPID MISTAKE EVERY TIME
2023.05.31 01:56 ParkingInterview7950 I think I blew it
2023.05.31 01:55 Thebrando111 I’m so crusted with these golden walnuts!
2023.05.31 01:54 KingFahad360 Everything the Piss touches is your Kingdom.
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2023.05.31 01:53 exitoffstage Raising Cane’s on White Bridge Opens 5/31
2023.05.31 01:52 yanniboz What am I doing wrong?? :(
Hey guys. I have upgraded my tank and took everyone’s advice to get a 5-10 gallon tank and put more decorations. I honestly feel so defeated and I feel like there’s got to be a mistake I keep repeating. I conditioned the water, I have a heater going (the temperature this time somehow is 80-81 in the tank instead of 78-79 from the old tank, can that pose an issue?), I acclimated my betta properly, feeding him as he should (maybe I’m using the wrong food? I am using the Buffet Betta flakes by Omega One instead of pellets, but that still shouldnt be an issue, or is it?), I am aware of the sharp plants and I will replace them soon.submitted by yanniboz to bettafish [link] [comments]
I feel like I’m trying my best to keep the betta well, but even then my betta is sticking his body inside the decor and is barely moving now. He is breathing, but even a tap or moving the decor hes barely moving out. I feel like this betta is on the verge of death. I did have a betta fish prior, but I believe it was defective since it started tilting from day one and died after one day. Given I get my betta fish from Petsmart, which should be a red flag in itself. Can anyone recommend a good source to buy betta fish that are healthy? I’m convinced I’m just buying from a bad source (Petsmart) or I’m honestly not sure.
Any help would be appreciated. I just feel so upset that even when I’m putting in the extra effort, my betta seems to still decline. Again, it could very well be the source of where I’m getting my bettas, but I still feel disappointed that I’m still doing something wrong and I just want to make sure I’m doing the right thing. Sorry if I sound emotional part of it might be because I’m tired from work haha but any advice would be appreciated please.
In the pic attached my betta is just almost motionless underneath the barrel prop.
2023.05.31 01:51 Tc1002 Feedback on this first chapter to a science fiction/fantasy novel called The Darkest Sin. I have tried to correct some of the errors people have mentioned. I would appreciate any comments.
An Unusual Offer It wasn’t often that Blackie had anything to bark about this early in the morning, so when, at just after 8:00 AM, Johnny heard the dog raising a loud commotion outside, he knew there must be something unusual afoot. In a few moments he was out the front door. He was greeted by the sight of two men standing outside a little car parked on the weed-grown gravel driveway, speaking in what were meant to be calming tones to the dog. But it was having little effect. Blackie, a large labrador retriever with short (and fittingly jet-black) fur, did not typically react well to strangers. ‘’Here, Blackie! Come!’’ Johnny called out loudly. The dog gave Johnny a brief glance, but kept on barking. ‘’Come, Blackie!’’ he said again, trying to sound as authoritative as possible. No good. In an instant he was at the dog’s side. He had just gotten Blackie by the collar and was beginning to attempt to drag him away from the parked vehicle—not an easy task, as the black lab was more than a hundred pounds—when he heard his father’s voice saying: ‘’Now, now, Blackie, enough of your barking! That’s good, Johnny. Take him back and tie him to the leash.’’ “Hello, there! Are you John Creighton?” the shorter, and slightly heavier, of the two strangers, said. “Jim, not John,” the farmer answered, as they shook hands. ‘’You’re speaking to him.” By now Johnny had successfully led Blackie back to the farmhouse and slipped a leash onto his collar. The dog was no longer barking, but he continued to eye the strangers with suspicion. “My apologies,” the man who had spoken first said. ‘’Well, it’s very nice meeting you, Jim. My name is Morgan Stevens, and my friend here is Nathan Philips. We’re photographers, you see.’’ ‘’Nice meeting you,” the other man said. Johnny, now getting his first good look at the two men, had a rather less than favorable impression. They looked like city people, with immaculate clothing and plastered-over haircuts. In fact, he thought that there seemed something vaguely artificial about them. “Well, was is it you fellows want?” Johnny’s father asked. ‘’As I was saying, we’re photographers,” the man who had first spoken, whose name apparently was Morgan Stevens, repeated. ‘’We‘ve been doing a series of photos of cornfields. We were looking into it, and we found that you have some of the largest uninterrupted cornfields in the whole state of Iowa! We would like to ask you permission to spend a few days—a week at most—taking pictures in and around you cornfields. In fact, we’re even willing to pay you for the opportunity.” “Pay for the—well, how much money are you talking about?’’ “We’re offering $3,000 for a maximum of seven days’ photo-shooting,” the other man, whose name was Nathan Philips, broke in. ‘’$3,000?” Jim Creighton’s eyebrows raised. That was indeed a ridiculously high sum of money. In fact to Johnny, who had by this time returned to the driveway and was standing nearby, it bordered on unbelievable. Who ever heard of paying $3,000 to take pictures of a cornfield? ‘’We’d pay up front, of course,” Morgan added. “Pay up front,” the farmer repeated. Johnny knew his dad must be trying to take it all in. And who possibly pass up that much money? “‘For a week of photographing? It’s a deal,” Jim said without a moment’s hesitation. “Thank you very much, Mr. Creighton,’’ Nathan said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a check with had three thousand dollars written on it—in very neat lettering, Johnny observed. ‘’And we promise, we won’t be bothering you. Or your pets, hopefully!’’ he added with a chuckle. ‘’Is there anything we could do to make this dog stop barking at us, in case you’re not around? Is he always tied up?” ‘’Blackie will be tied up for as long as you’re here,” Jim said. ‘’What hours of the day will you be doing your photography, do you reckon?’’ ‘’Well, uh—“ Nathan paused and glanced sidelong at his partner. ’As far as that goes, I….” “That all depends on a lot of factors,” Morgan broke in. ‘’Some days we might be here a few hours, and some days we might be here all day. There might even be some days that we would be wanting to take pictures in late evening—I hope you can understand. I guess we wouldn’t want to be too close to your yard then, though! The dog there might think see us and think we were intruders. Does he ever range far from home? I mean, say, clear all the way to the other side of the cornfields?’’ “Sometimes he might, but usually only if he’s with Johnny—this here is my son, Johnny,” the farmer answered. ‘’But I can tell you up front, and Johnny, you listen up, he’ll not to go anywhere close to wherever these here photographers are taking their pictures. Now that’s a promise,” turning back to the two men. ‘’You just let me know where you’re taking the pictures beforehand, and it’ll be taken care of.” “That sounds good to us, Mr. Creighton. We won’t be taking any pictures today, but we’ll be back tomorrow with our photographing gear. Thank you again!” Morgan said as the two men got back into their car. It appeared to be one of the modern electric cars, which was the reason it had made little enough sound as to not awaken Blackie, Johnny now realized. It didn’t look exactly like a normal car, but it was smaller and somewhat boxy in shape. Throughout the conversation, Johnny had been thinking how strange it all was. Something about the men struck him as not quite right, though he really couldn’t say what that was. And when he heard his father say “It’s a deal,” he was a little perturbed. The prospect of having the two photographers hanging around the property for a week wasn’t something he looked forward to. He thought to himself that he should keep an eye on them over the next few days—or for however long they stayed. His mother, whose name was Wilma, walked out onto the front porch just as the strange black car was driving off. ‘’Now Wilma,” Jim said, holding up the check in his hand. ‘’You see this? This is good for three thousand dollars; now why in the world they wrote me a check for this much money I can’t say. But here it is. I’ll deposit it in the bank tomorrow. They say they are photographers, and that money is all for nothing more than being allowed to take photos of the cornfields! Can you imagine that?’’ He laughed out loud. “Three thousand dollars?’’ Wilma said with incredulity. ‘’That does sound ridiculously high.’ “You can say that again! I guess they must be convinced they’ll be able to make the money back in sales of those photographs of theirs! Or at least I assume they must think that—or else why would they have paid all that? But you know, we really do need the money,” he added. And that was true enough. Johnny’s father was reasonably well off as far as farmers go, but only as far as that. He had never been anywhere close to wealthy, in any event; and the last few years there seemed to have been nothing but inclement weather, from floods to droughts. It had all taken a toll on the financial situation. “I just hope they don’t go walking around in the cornfields and trample everything,” his wife replied. She was one of those people who tended to be suspicious of strangers, especially if she thought their behavior was out of the ordinary. ‘’Now, dear, I assume they’ll be just as careful as they can be,” Jim said with an effort at sounding reassuring. ‘’And again, this will do wonderful things for our bank account.’’ ‘’And Johnny,” he said, turning to his son. ‘’I want to repeat to you what I said a little earlier: you’re not to take Blackie with you on any of your traipsing through the fields, do you hear that? I don’t want you all running right into those photographers and having the dog barking at them.” “Aw, heck, Blackie wouldn’t bite anybody,” Johnny answered. ‘’At least he never has yet.’’ ‘’I didn’t say he’d bite them, but he would bark; and that’s not something I’m going to allow. They’re paying good money to be out there, and I promised them that I wouldn’t be letting Blackie anywhere near them. So now you know, too. And now son,’’ he added, “I think it’s time you were doing your chores. It’s going to get really hot today, in the mid-nineties, and you won’t want to be outside in the middle of the day, I imagine.” Johnny had to admit to himself that he did not want to be outside in the middle of the day. Already, it was beginning to feel hot and humid, as it usually is in Iowa in late June. As his parents returned inside, closing the door behind them, Johnny went to untie Blackie. A bizarre way for the day to begin! he thought to himself. So the photographers would be back tomorrow. As if there weren’t thousands of other cornfields they could take pictures of! No question about it, he would have to be keeping an eye on those men…. That night, Johnny had a nightmare. It didn’t begin as a nightmare, but on the contrary as a mere ordinary dream. The only thing abnormal was how vivid it was—it felt more real than real, far more so than most dreams are. Johnny dreamt that he was flying at night, flying under a sky a-glitter with stars like jewels, over a vast, misty sea of corn. Only it was really more like floating than flying…. But suddenly, amidst all the serenity, he felt himself falling—falling, falling, still hopelessly falling downwards. And he knew that he was headed for the cornfield and something terrifying buried beneath it; but what it was that was buried was he had no idea. He felt himself hit the ground—though obviously, he didn’t actually feel anything, since he was dreaming—and the ground itself gave way underneath him and he found himself wrapped in utter darkness. For a moment he could see nothing—literally nothing at all. And then, although he could never be certain of this when he remembered it later, he began to feel for some reason as if he were underwater, or possibly underground, but a part of the underground that was liquified, like close to the center of the earth. And he thought that the darkness became a little less so—no longer pitch black but merely extremely dark, such as it would be somewhere deep in the ocean. And then the worst part of his nightmare happened, for in the distance, he saw something huge and menacing coming, or swimming, towards him. Its shape wash very hard to make out from the distance he was seeing it from and in the murky almost-blackness, but it looked like a shark or whale; only he could tell that it was much larger than any ordinary sea animal. As it came closer, it seemed to be coming faster and faster. He could see now with horror that it was headed straight towards him at breakneck speed. He tried to turn to run or swim away, but he found that he could hardly move at all. He didn’t know how long it was before the creature had reached him, its massive jaws opened, he was swallowed whole like by suction, and then—— That was when he woke up with a start. He didn’t know how long he lay there in bed, as if paralyzed. It might have been a few minutes or a few hours. He almost felt too scared to fall back asleep again. What if he had another awful nightmare like the one he had just woken from—or maybe one even worse? It had been all so vivid, so life-like. It had felt REAL. Not like normal dreams. In fact he felt surprised that he was not dead and in the belly of a sea-monster, or earth-monster, whichever it had been. Yet eventually, somehow or other, tiredness did come back over him, and he drifted off again to sleep. He had no more nightmares, but his sleep was uneasy for the remainder of the night. He woke up fairly early, around 7:00, the next morning. Unlike as with most dreams, the memory of this one did not lessen at all over time. He still remembered it with as much clarity and vividness as when he had been in the middle of it. Once that morning his mother asked him why he seemed upset, but he brushed it off with a ‘’I don’t feel upset. What makes you think I am?” But he managed to be outside right at the time that the two photographers returned in that electric car of theirs. He wouldn’t have seen them arrive had they not chosen to park the car pretty close by—but they did, fortunately; only about a quarter of a mile from the farmhouse, in fact. Espying this from a distance, and double-checking that Blackie was tied up (he was), Johnny decided to take what he acted as if were a mere leisurely stroll right around where the photographers had parked their vehicle. As a matter of fact, he did often like to take walks along the gravel road in the cool morning hours, so this was nothing unusual for him, and his parents wouldn’t reprimand him for snooping. Or at least he hoped they wouldn’t. As he was coming closer, he kept glancing out of the corner of his eye at the men as they were unloading. And they had a lot of it. Johnny had a hard time not staring, with mouth wide open, as he saw what strange devices they had with them. They had something that looked like a big electric generator, and something else that looked rather like a satellite. A satellite?! he thought, stupefied. They also had all of what photographers would usually have: cameras, tripods, etc. But he didn’t have nearly as much time to look as he would like to have, since, after all, he couldn’t stop there on the road and stare. So he merely went along on his way, casually. But what he had seen had served to rouse his suspicions all the more. And in fact, he half thought that he had seen one of the photographers, the slightly taller one, glancing up at him with an expression that was not all the way friendly. Although that might have been his imagination. But still…. As Johnny walked on along the road, he shrugged and shook his head, thrusting his hands in his pockets. The more he thought about it, the more he thought that those men were not real photographers at all—no, they were something else. But he had no idea what. And the $3000 they had paid—to take pictures of a cornfield! made it all seem the more suspicious. There must be something else about those fields that was important to these people. His mind was filled with all kinds of wild possibilities. But none of those possibilities seemed any more credible to him. They all seemed silly. He decided that he should tell his parents about this. He thought they should know, after all, what was happening on their own property. That evening at supper, he brought up what he had seen, or thought he had seen. Both his mom and dad appeared to be quite dumbfounded. “What in the world did you say, dear?” his mom asked, as if she hadn’t heard what he had said. “Yeah, what WAS it you said, Johnny?” his dad repeated. “I said those photographers have some strange kind of cameras with them!’’ Johnny said. ‘’They have something that looked like a satellite, but I have no idea what it really is—and what they’re planning on using that for, why, I couldn’t guess.” ‘’Satellite?” his father said. ‘’Well, that does sound out of the ordinary. Do they have solar powered cameras or something?” ‘’I’ve never heard of a sola powered camera!” Johnny rejoined. ‘’Or if there is then they must have been the ones that invented it. All I know is, I saw those photographers taking it out of the trunk of their car. Right as they were setting up their cameras next to the cornfield. But it was a little bit different than a satellite; I don’t know what it actually was.’’ ‘’You’ve been spying on them, Johnny?’’ his dad said. ‘’No, I wasn’t spying. I was just curious is all.’’ ‘’Hmmm. I guess I’ll have to take a look myself,” his dad grunted, shaking his head. ‘’Johnny, I hate to say I think you may be imagining things. But anyways, there’s no question those are strange people, they are. I suppose they’ll be back tomorrow. But as I said earlier, they’ll be gone in a week at latest. And I figure we can put up with some abnormality for three thousand dollars, for a little while, anyway. But Johnny, now, I don’t want you snooping on those photographers, do you hear? Just keep your distance from them.” “Yes, Johnny, you just stay away from the photographers,” his mom repeated. ‘’Let them do what they’re going to do.’’ Johnny remained silent for the rest of that supper. He was deciding that talking to his parents, at any rate ( or for that matter any other adults), about the photographers wouldn’t do much good. But who then could he talkt to? He immediately thought of George Benson. George was the son of Jason Benson, the Creighton’s’ closest neighbor. ‘’Closest’’ being still a solid three and a half miles away; but this was the country, after all, and especially in this part of the country, people lived pretty far apart. Yes, Johnny decided, that was exactly what he should do. Tomorrow, hopefully. It was with some trepidation that he climbed back into bed, around 10 o’clock. The dream from last night was still in his mind, just as clearly as it had been this morning. He didn’t want another one like it. Although he didn’t pray much ordinarily, he prayed now, that he wouldn’t have any nightmares, that he would be able to sleep well. And perhaps his prayer was answered, for he didn’t have any nightmares. But he was restless in bed all through the night, tossing and turning, tired and yet unable to sleep. Unsurprisingly, he was somewhat exhausted when he awoke the next day. It was warm, but not hot as it had been the last few days. There was rain forecasted for the coming night, but only a little intermittent sprinkling until then. At least the rain would turn the grass greener, Johnny thought; the last few weeks it had browned considerably under the scorching heat of the summer sun. Jim Creighton went early to go and check if the photographers were back. Indeed they were; but when Jim returned he said he had seen none of that bizarre equipment Johnny had spoken of. Johnny overheard him saying this to his mom. But in any case, he said, he had asked the photographers if they had gotten the pictures they wanted yet: they replied that they hadn’t. They said it’d probably be several days yet, and during different kinds of weather and lighting, before they were satisfied Eavesdropping on this conversation, Johnny’s suspicions were growing at a rapid rate. He knew with certainty that he had seen what he had seen yesterday morning. The fact that those strange devices were no longer to be seen only made it seem all the more shady. Those men must be hiding something, but what? In fact he was coming to the disturbing conclusion that the “photographers”, whatever they really were, were running some kind of con game. But still, what they were doing out there, what their objective was, remained as mysterious as ever. All of this merely gave him all the more determination that he should go and talk about this to his friend George. Johnny knew he would be interested in the story he had to tell. It was not unusual for him to bike to the Bensons’ farm-house, anyway, so this would not seem like anything out of the ordinary. Johnny called him first on his cell phone and asked if they could meet in private in the east barn (as it was called) of the Bensons’ property. The ‘’east barn’’ was a decrepit old structure which had used to house horses but now was largely unused. They had talked there many times before. George was thirteen—about half a year older than Johnny. He agreed to it, but he sounded quite surprised at the urgency in Johnny’s voice. Half an hour later, Johnny was recounting to George everything that had happened. After hearing about it, he agreed that it did seem unlikely the so-called photographers were actually in the cornfields to take pictures. There must be a different motive; possibly a sinister one. In fact George suggested that they head over and investigate the matter, as soon they got the chance. ‘’What about it? Maybe it would be best if we went over and looked into it. Sitting around here talking about it won’t do much good,” he said. George wasn’t somebody easily afraid. He was also impulsive, even to the point of rashness. Johnny, on the other hand, wasn’t so eager. ‘’Those people could be dangerous. And what would happen if we got caught? My dad said I wasn’t supposed to to go snooping around those fellows. And he meant it, too. If he ever found out….” ‘’Well, obviously we would have to make sure that we didn’t get caught,” George answered. ‘’We would make sure the photographers (or whatever they really are) never saw us. Not even the slightest bit of suspicion. We obviously wouldn’t walk right up to them along the road; no, we’d have to sneak up on them, from inside the cornfield itself. We’re both small enough we could easily crawl along those rows unseen, I would think; and if we were really careful we wouldn’t make much noise.” “Not much noise is still some noise. And there’s another thing I didn’t tell you about yet.’’ “What?” “This dream I had the other night,” Johnny shook his head. ‘’A really terrible dream.” He told George all about it—-although he said he really didn’t know if there was any special meaning to it. Maybe it was a coincidence. Or maybe it was directly caused by the coming of those two men, in some way…. ‘’I mean I don’t want to be superstitious, but that nightmare was much more lifelike than any other dream I’ve ever had. It felt as real for me as it does right here and now. I can still see that animal’s mouth open; it could have easily swallowed several full-grown people at once. And its’ teeth, why, they were almost as tall as I am.” ‘’Hmm. But how the heck do you think those ‘’photographers” (I know they’re not actually that) could have caused something like that? Do you think they have mystical powers or something?’’ “‘Well,” Johnny said hesitantly, “I don’t know…. It seems ridiculous, I admit. But all I know is, the dream wasn’t natural. It was almost, well…” He trailed off. “Well what?” Johnny remained silent for a while, then muttered “Supernatural.” “Supernatural?” ‘’I know, I know, it doesn’t seem possible. I can’t explain it.’’ ‘ I don’t know what to tell you,” George said, shaking his head. There was silence, before he cleared his throat and went on, ‘’But like I was saying, I think we should head over to the cornfield and see what we can see. What do you say?’’ ‘’I don’t know” Johnny said uncertainly. ‘’Well if you’d rather not, that’s up to you,” George said, springing up. ‘’But I am going to go over there. Are you coming?’’ Johnny stood there a moment, silent. He now wondered whether he should even told his friend George about the matter in the first place. He glanced out through the open doorway of the barn, at the pale, gloomy gray sky. A few rain drops could be heard falling with a soft pitter-patter sound on the metal roof overhead. On the other hand, he thought, he really would feel guilty, not to mention a little cowardly, if he were to not go with George. But who knew what those men might do if they found two kids spying on them? And what if they really were criminals? Then they would be really dangerous. They might even be armed, in which case…. ‘’Well, all right,” Johnny said finally and with not a little reluctance. ‘’I’ll go—but we’ve got to be REALLY careful, you know. Those people have got to never suspect we were anywhere close by, like you said. We’ve got to do it stealthily.’’ ‘’Right. As I said, what we’ve got to do is crawl in from another part of the cornfield,” George said. ‘’It’s a little bit windy today, so that’ll help any noise we might make even better.” ‘’Well, but what happens if they do notice us?” said Johnny. “If that were to ever happen, we would obviously have to get out of there as fast as possible. I don’t think we’d have to worry about those people trying to come after us, since we could probably outrun must adults in a cornfield. After all, they’re taller and would have to stoop lower than we would to run under all the corn stalks. By the way, which part of the field are they at?” ‘’I don’t know, I think they’ve been moving around some. Wait, no, I think my dad say to my mom that they’re right around where the old corn crib used to be; that’s about a mile south from our house. But boy, that sounds like an awful lot of crawling.” ‘’Well, you want answers, don’t you? This is the only way to get those answers. All right then, so we’ll have to head for the old corn crib,” George resumed, briskly. ‘’What time is it; do you know?” Johnny looked at his wristwatch. It was one twenty-two o’clock. Despite the ever so faint sprinkling of rain, the ground was still for the most part dry, which was good. Obviously they wouldn’t want to spend an hour crawling on wet soil! ‘’The sun usually sets around nine o’clock, this time of year,” George said. ‘’So we have plenty of time ahead of us.” ‘’Well I sure hope our parents don’t see us,” Johnny said. ‘’My dad told me I should keep my distance from the photographers. And I’m sure he’d be real mad if he found out about what we’re going to do.’’ ‘’Well, are we going to get going or aren’t we?” said George, dragging his bike out from a dusty corner of the barn. ‘’Let’s go and figure out if we can what’s going on over there. Your parents should be grateful we’re going to do this. We’re doing them a service.’’’ It was with some reluctance that Johnny re-mounted his own bike and pushed its’ kickstand up. Together the two of them rode out from the barn. “If anyone asks us what we’re doing, we can tell them we’re going fishing,” George said as they were heading down the Bensons’ driveway. ‘’We’ll just say we’re going over to your house to get the rods and bait.’’ “All right,’’ Johnny said, but he barely heard what had been said. Inwardly he was dreading what they were about to do. What if there WAS something supernatural about those photographers? It did seem ridiculous, it seemed impossible. But how else could he explain what had happened? How else could he explain the nightmare? He thought back to the faces of the two men. Pale faces, without much expression. They seemed smiling and friendly, but there was something about them that seemed artificial, contrived. That did not seem real. He shook his head, as if to shake away the thoughts. Far from warming up as the day went on, it was actually getting a little bit cooler. Closer to eighty than eighty-five degrees now, Johnny thought; for which he was grateful. In fact the weather was actually pretty pleasant, although dreary. Crawling around in a cornfield in ninety degree weather, with no cloud-cover, would have been very unpleasant. By now the boys had left the Bensons’ farm-house well behind them, and they were on the gravel road headed straight south. There were cornfields on either side of them, but these did not belong to the Creightons. Most of them were the Bensons’, some belonged to the Sawters (other neighbors of theirs). This part of Iowa was quite flat, and they were able to pedal along at a pretty decent speed. The closer they got to the Creighton farm, the more misgivings Johnny felt rising up inside him. It wasn’t like him to feel this afraid about anything, he trie to tell himself. He couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him. It was as if the nightmare of two nights ago had left him with an unending, incomprehensible fear. But, he tried to tell himself, he would feel better if and once they were able to get to the bottom of the so-called photographers’ true purposes. Or at least to have a much better idea of them than they had now. And he didn’t have long to wait. By now the cluster of buildings of the Creighton property was coming into sight. Beyond lay all the expanse of the Creighton cornfields, and in them the mystery they were attempting to unravel..
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