Bayou folks say the Lantern‑Back Man only shows up when a guy’s on the verge of making a spectacularly bad decision — the kind you’ll later call “growth” even though everyone knows it was just you being stubborn with style. He’s got that Amy Winehouse aura: smoky, sharp, and carrying the kind of tired affection reserved for men who insist they’re fine when they’re clearly unraveling. I met him on a night when I was absolutely not winning at life. Shirt wrinkled, hair doing whatever it wanted, drink in hand that tasted like bravado mixed with denial. Very I swear I’m good, man energy. The fog rolled in thick, and his lantern glow cut through it like the last warm light in a bar that should’ve closed an hour ago. He didn’t say a word — just gave me that look Amy perfected, the one that’s half‑tender and half‑“you’re better than this, love.” I muttered, “I’m fine.” He tilted his head — pure Rehab energy — the kind that says, Sure you are, champ. Then he tapped my phone. The screen died instantly, like it had been caught pretending it had its life together. The river hummed. The night breathed. My pulse finally slowed. He pointed toward the water, inviting me to sit with something real for once. So I did. And the quiet hit me harder than any drink — that Winehouse truth that shows up when everything else stops buzzing and you’re left with yourself. When I finally looked up, he was gone. Just a faint shimmer drifting toward the trees, like the last note of a song that leaves you standing there, hands in your pockets, wondering how you got so far off track. People say he appears to men who are unraveling with charm. I believe it. I haven’t doom‑scrolled by the river since.

@Laura Cushing I hope you don't mind. I read the premise of your RPG in the July Accountability Post - and it took me to another place . It also reminded me of Summer Camp! Briarwood feels different now. Like the whole town is walking around with a bruise they can’t see but keep pressing anyway. Thirty‑one days gone — cleanly, surgically — and everyone pretending they’re fine because what else do you do when the calendar betrays you. The halls look normal, but the air has that charged heaviness, like a storm passed through the building and forgot to take its teeth with it. Friends I used to nod at in the hallway now carry themselves like they’ve fought something in the dark. Some have scars they joke about, but their eyes don’t match the punchline. Others keep glancing at their phones like they’re waiting for a message from someone they don’t remember meeting. And the dreams — God, the dreams. I’ve never been to a lake like that. Never stood on a dock that long. Never heard water whisper like it’s trying to confess something. But I wake up sweating, heart pounding, like I almost drowned in a place that doesn’t exist. People keep finding photos too — blurry, off‑angle shots of August that shouldn’t be real. A bonfire. A cabin. A shadow that doesn’t look human. Everyone laughs it off, but nobody deletes them. And every so often, someone remembers one moment. Just one. A flash of fear. A scream swallowed by trees. A hand reaching through water. Enough to know August wasn’t empty. Enough to know something happened, and it wasn’t kind. Briarwood woke up on September 1st. But I’m not convinced we all came back!

Hello everyone, The first live community editing event is only a few days away. In order to simplify the upload process, please share your projects in response to THIS POST. That way I will have all of them in one convenient place for Saturday. Please have them submitted by Friday, July 17, by or before midnight EST. I cannot guarantee that I will have enough time to look over any submissions prior to the event that are uploaded Saturday morning, so get them in Friday! I've also created resources to help with the upload process: #Text Tutorial #Video Tutorial I'll see you on Saturday!