《Escaping the Fourth Checkpoint》 Chapter 1 Some people envy cats because cats have eight lives to spare; I envy cats because cats die only nine times. And I lost count, how many times I died. * Checkpoint TWO; XX1st time In a small church, Elgar''s Salut d''Amour is being played. It¡¯s not checkpoint three yet so I guess I have some time to breathe? I walk away from the wedding ceremony in my tedious outfit and grab a cigarette from the priest¡¯s (whom I¡¯ll name Orange) pocket. Even if I have all the time in the world, I still haven¡¯t tried to figure out why Orange smoked. Huh, maybe I¡¯ll do that the next time I arrive at this checkpoint. Dear readers, please note that I have never smoked in my entire life. It wasn¡¯t until after I died I started smoking. I mean, when you¡¯re living a worse version of ¡°Groundhog Day¡±, you gotta try some stuff. I¡¯ll be bored to death if I don¡¯t! (Though I would have preferred it if I can actually be bored to death.) Right, back to the wedding ceremony. Yes, readers, I am getting married. Are you wondering why the person getting married can simply prance away from the ceremony? Well, I do too! I¡¯ve lived through my life already and because Death is a playful fella, it sent me back to moments (what I call checkpoints) of my life before I died. There are in total four checkpoints and every time I am sent to one, I become something like a ghost. I can still see, hear, touch, and feel, as well as interact with objects, but all people and animals (yes, I did experiment with animals) treat me as if I¡¯m not there. For example, when Orange tells me to proclaim we will become husband and wife, even if I don¡¯t speak, even if I walk away, or even slap the priest, he still thinks that I did the proclamation and everyone in the church will clap. It¡¯s like there is the version of the still-living me in front of them, and I am the ghost that haunts nobody.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. Eugh, I still don¡¯t like the taste of cigarette. Some things you just never get used to. * Checkpoint THREE; XX2nd time Here it comes. Okay, breathe in and breathe out. Do I know where to go? Yes. Ice cream road to gingerbread street to cheese cake walk, where the Cabbage Bank¡¯s at. My subordinates Apple and Banana are talking to me about my plan of raising the housing price in some low-income residential area but I have no time. I fly past them. They are still talking and sometimes pause for ¡°my¡± response. Haha, never gets old. I¡¯ve arrived at the Cabbage Bank. My God, the number of people. I can¡¯t even hear my own thoughts! Jesus Christ, let me get to the counter! Counter six, counter six¡­ Argh, too many people, I don¡¯t even know where to look at. I can¡¯t afford to lose valuable time¡­ I should mention that my ¡°ghost¡± ability is a double-edged sword. No one notices me so I can do whatever I want, but I bump into them frequently and they won¡¯t even budge. I feel like I¡¯m a lost child in this crowded bank. There it is, finally! Yep. Just happens to be the furthest one from the entrance. Love my luck. I¡¯m still some distance away from counter six, but I see him! The bald guy (whom I¡¯ll call Watermelon)! Well, he¡¯s wearing a wig now, but no doubt, he¡¯s Watermelon! (Are all hitmen supposed to be bald?) Oh no. he¡¯s already leaving. He must have taken the money from the account already. Quick, what¡¯s the time? I look at my watch and it shows 23:49, despite the fact that it¡¯s clearly afternoon. Damn it. I know that my watch always shows 23:49 but force of habit. Luckily there are a lot of people around me that can be of my use. I grab a nearby phone from a random woman¡¯s pocket and look at the time. 14:30:05. Watermelon¡¯s getting further away. I sprint toward him in an attempt to find some clues, but the moment I step out of the bank, my vision turns hazy. New short story! Give this story a good rating and maybe leave a comment if you like it! Please check out my other stories if you want something else to read~ Chapter 2 Checkpoint ONE; XX3rd time Fuck. I¡¯m so close. Whatever, I¡¯ll get him soon enough. Which checkpoint am I in? This ceiling, this smell of wood. It¡¯s the first checkpoint. A secret between you readers and me: I¡¯m more scared of this checkpoint than the fourth where I died. My legs keep shaking. I¡¯m a ghost! I don¡¯t have to be afraid! But he¡¯s walking towards me. My stepfather, Durian. When can I leave this checkpoint? I look at my digital watch. 23:49. Hah¡­ Obviously. My watch was a gift by my mother before she was married Durian. In this checkpoint, I think I¡¯m¡­ seven years old? Makes sense because the watch was given to me on my fifth birthday. Sometimes, whenever I arrive at this checkpoint, I feel that Time is mocking me, reminding me that my suffering never stops. And I need to live through Durian¡¯s abuse again, and again, and again¡­ Yes, I could¡¯ve just gotten up and left, but every time his belt hits the seemingly empty room, I still feel the pain, and my blood still drips. Because I retain the body of a child, I also can¡¯t force my way out of the locked room. I can only watch and bleed, as Durian laughs and beats. ¡°Please stop¡­¡± *You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Checkpoint FOUR; XX4th time It¡¯s the checkpoint where I¡¯ll die, but it¡¯s infinitely better than what just happened. I¡¯ve finished my pancreatic cancer treatment and I¡¯m now aimlessly walking around at the night. Honestly, the night view is beautiful. I guess the silver lining is that I¡¯ll die in a good scenery. Usually I¡¯ll just go somewhere outside the hospital to look at the night sky before I suddenly bleed out, but this time I¡¯ll stay close to Watermelon since I¡¯m so close to discovering the identity of his buyer. It¡¯s futile, because I have already investigated the Watermelon of this checkpoint VERY thoroughly, but still. I remember I stripped him naked once and went through his belongings to find nothing but a knife, not even a wallet. Nothing gives his identity away. Do you know how many tries it took me to finally find out about the Cabbage Bank account? I guess that¡¯s a professional hitman for you. (Professionality of a hitman = how bald you are.) Watermelon appeared. He¡¯s bald this time. I go in closer to take a good look at his face. It¡¯s a face devoid of emotions. Fuck you. You¡¯re killing someone and you think nothing of it? I can¡¯t believe I got killed by a guy like this. A guy like the fucking moai statue. Fuck you. I don¡¯t deserve this. Do you know how successful I am? I own the land you thought you owned. If I so want, I can evict you in an instant, AND you¡¯ll have to pay me back. No one says no to me. How dare you. I don¡¯t deserve this. Ptough! How do you like that? Ptough! Hahahaha! I fucking love how Watermelon doesn¡¯t dodge my spit. He loves my saliva! Whoever paid you must also be some dog who¡¯s evicted by me once! And guess what? I don¡¯t even feel the slightest bit of sorry for you! At 23:49, I died, laughing. * Checkpoint ONE; XX5th time Shit. 1 good rating = 1 less beating from Durian? Chapter 3 Checkpoint THREE; XX6th time Out of my way, Apple and Banana. Shut your filthy mouths. I never liked you two flatterers. Not long after, I¡¯m in the Cabbage Bank. I force a phone out of a nearby person¡¯s pocket and look at the time. 14:28:35. No more than two minutes until Watermelon leaves. I rush to counter six and I see Watermelon talking to the lady at the counter (whom I¡¯ll call Plum). ¡°Please check the account XXXXXX,¡± says Watermelon. Wow, unexpected. Watermelon, a hitman, a guy who kills for living, sounds like a silly little girl. I bet his slut of a mother dropped him on his balls when he was younger. Fuck you. And everyone you love. Plum, with a sweet voice, responds, ¡°Yes, sir. Please wait a moment.¡± What do I do¡­ I traced his bank account but I can¡¯t believe I didn¡¯t formulate a plan to discover his buyer¡¯s identity. No time to think. I¡¯ll search Watermelon¡¯s body. In his wallet, there¡¯s nothing but cash and a bank card, and I guess the bank card is of this account. There¡¯s a name on the bank card but it¡¯s probably fake. Are there other clues? I find a strip of brown paper in his inner coat pocket. Some instructions are written on it: Where to get the money, account number, how much more will be deposited after Watermelon completes his job, etc. And finally at the bottom of the paper strip, the initial ¡°C¡± was written. ¡°I found the account,¡± says Plum. ¡°Can you please enter your pin number here?¡± Watermelon punches in a four-digit code. 2710.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. I see. 2710 huh. 27th October, Carice¡¯s birthday. So you¡¯re the one, Carice. I can¡¯t believe I died by the borrowed hands of my own daughter. I can¡¯t help but laugh. Why would she ever want to kill me? It¡¯s just too funny. My laughter grows and my voice, hoarse from laughing, permeates the air, though people do not notice. Dear readers, is this not a humorous situation? Tell me I¡¯m not the only one laughing. I ask Watermelon and Plum, ¡°Why are you not laughing? Do you not think this is funny? A daughter killing her parent? Who provided all she needs? Hahaha!¡± Watermelon and Plum must not have a good sense of humour because they¡¯re not laughing. As I am laughing, a cat crawls out of the counter six window. Strangely, no one pays attention to the cat. Why will anyone bring a cat to a crowded bank during the day? I inspect the cat a bit closer. In this bank where everyone is minding their own business, marching in their own pace, talking without speaking, the cat simply sweeps its tail and sits on the counter elegantly. It¡¯s a pure white cat with beautiful, almost bewitching eyes. Each strand of fur is clean and well groomed, like it¡¯s polished individually. I am stunned at this ethereal creature. Cute is not the right word. It¡¯s¡­ motherly. It¡¯s like it¡¯s smiling kindly. ¡­No. No way. No fucking way. The cat just stared straight into me. I am more shocked by this than discovering my own daughter tried to kill me. You¡­ you¡­ Don¡¯t you look at me like that. I¡¯m not pitiful. Fate tries to toy with me but I am fighting back. Stop looking at me like you¡¯re fucking pitying me! I shout. I can¡¯t help but step back away from the counter. It¡¯s like I¡¯m caught doing something wrong. It¡¯s just a cat! What do I have to fear? I approach the cat and extend my hand to the cat. Cats are shy creatures who hate strangers touching them, but not this one. The white cat waits patiently until I reach its fur. Why the hell is it smiling at me? It puts its paws on my hand and caresses the back of my hand. What is this feeling? I didn¡¯t do anything wrong¡­ I don¡¯t need to apologise for anything¡­ The world wronged me. I am the victim. But somewhere deep within my heart, I feel something. What is it? ¡°Tell me, cat. Tell me, how do I get out of this hell.¡± The cat removes its paws on me and turns around. ¡°Wait!¡± The cat jumps down the counter and the moment I lose sight on it, my vision turns hazy. Wait! Before I get to another checkpoint, get me out of here! Chapter 4 Checkpoint A; XX7th time ¡°Whachya doing?¡± Carice asks. What¡¯s going on? Where is this place? Am I back to reality? ¡°Oh¡­ but when will you be done with your work?¡± Carice asks again. The small girl in front of me is talking to the empty space in front of her. It¡¯s still another checkpoint, but this hasn¡¯t happened before. It¡¯s a new checkpoint. Calm down. If it¡¯s another checkpoint, I have all the time in the world to investigate. Breathe in. Breathe out. This is the apartment we lived in before we moved. Together with Alex and Carice, we lived here for a couple of years. It¡¯s quite small now that I see it. A bit cramped. ¡°Yay! Does that mean we can go play later this afternoon?¡± With a bright smile, she runs across me (the ghost) and into her room. ¡°You¡¯d better not break her promise this time.¡± That voice. I recognise that voice. I often hear that voice when I am asleep. Alex! ¡°Don¡¯t push it onto me! I¡¯m busy too!¡± ¡°Alex¡­ Alex¡­ I¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m heading back to work.¡±This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. I can finally see Alex again. I dream about this every day and finally, here I am. But it¡¯s painful. Alex can¡¯t see me. In Alex¡¯s eyes, only the me who was oblivious to everything is present. If it means being able to trade my position with the checkpoint-A-me, I won¡¯t mind going through checkpoint one for another hundreds of times, thousands of times. I missed you so much, Alex. * Checkpoint B; XX8th time Lying in a hospital bed, Alex is setting up a violin. ¡°It¡¯s fine. You love hearing me play.¡± The first movement of Sibelius¡¯s violin concerto. One of my favourite pieces. Beautiful as usual. Just when the second theme comes up, Alex stops to my surprise. Why would Alex stop at the best part? ¡°Sure,¡± Alex says. Elgar¡¯s Salut d¡¯Amour starts playing. It¡¯s the piece played at our wedding. The sweet sound of the violin echoes in the room, filling me with immeasurable pleasure, and immense pain. This is the past. In reality, Alex will never play the violin ever again. Please, Alex, I beg of you, never stop playing. At least continue to play forever when I¡¯m in this checkpoint. Soon, the held high-E note stops. Alex puts the violin down and starts unwinding the bow. ¡°Can you promise me something?¡± I must have said yes. ¡°Promise me to live on after I die.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t say that.¡± ¡°But we both know it¡¯s true. I know you too well. If you don¡¯t promise me that, I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ll do something you¡¯ll regret.¡± ¡°¡± (When I don¡¯t know what I said then, I¡¯ll denote it by ¡°¡±) ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant. I just don¡¯t want to see you be unhappy.¡± ¡°¡± ¡°Fantastic. Now I can go in peace.¡± Eyes closing, Alex lies on the bed. ¡°¡± ¡°Hahaha! You should¡¯ve looked at your face, idiot. I¡¯m just sleeping. I¡­ I¡­ can¡¯t¡­ Hahaha!¡± Alex is tearing up from laughing too hard. ¡°Before you go. One more thing.¡± ¡°¡± ¡°Yes, it is.¡± ¡°¡± ¡°The best.¡± ¡°¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± ¡°¡± ¡°Bye.¡± What did I say back then? I can¡¯t seem to remember. Hmm¡­ Maybe giving this a good rating can bring back my memory! (Not) Chapter 5 Checkpoint D; XX9th time This looks like the new house Carice and I lived in after Alex died. How nostalgic. I remember Carice misbehaving often, but in the end she turned out to be a good child I¡¯m proud of. Wait¡­ Did I just forget she¡¯s the one who killed me? I leak out a small laugh. There¡¯s nobody here. I walk around to see if there¡¯s anyone. It¡¯s currently late evening so I should be somewhere here in the house. Nope, not in the living room. Not in my bedroom. Not in my personal office. Oh! There I was, in Carice¡¯s bedroom. Of course, I don¡¯t actually see myself in her bedroom, if that were the case, then it would have broken the story continuity. What I see was Carice crying in her bedroom and mouthing some words to an empty space near her door. I remember this! I grounded her because she went out to party all night with her ¡°friends¡±. If I recall, there were boys too. At her age, she really shouldn¡¯t be risking herself like this. Luckily nothing happened. Carice retaliates, but I didn¡¯t and won¡¯t change my stance. It¡¯s too dangerous for a teenage girl to be roaming around so late at night! She keeps arguing with me, but her arguments don¡¯t make any sense at all. Good on you, past me, for steeling your heart and disciplining her! There¡¯s really nothing here worth watching so I go outdoors to take a breath of fresh air. When I look back at the house, the size of it always gets my heart throbbing. I afforded this? I¡¯m actually quite successful huh. It¡¯s a Victorian mansion with dozens of spacious rooms. I had architects design some rooms specifically for Carice and me. The office I usually spend my time in is the biggest of them all and I can focus on my work without disturbance. I love this mansion. It¡¯s my pride. * Checkpoint C; X10th time Red and blue lights flash in front of me. Jesus! Who the hell is playing with lights? It¡¯s blinding me! I close my eyes on reflex.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°It¡¯s alright. I can listen to you if you¡¯re closer. Slowly walk back here for me, will you?¡± When I open my eyes, I see that there are a lot of people surrounding an empty space, forming a half circle. There are cars behind the crowd of people. This is a bridge. The woman (whom I¡¯ll call Pear) talking just then is a policewoman. Since she is talking to the empty half circle near the edge of the bridge, I guess that means she is (or rather, was) talking to me. ¡°Honey, what¡¯s wrong? You don¡¯t have to do this,¡± Pear says in a soothing voice. ¡°¡± ¡°Okay. Don¡¯t worry, we won¡¯t come closer. I just want to talk to you. What¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°¡± ¡°That¡¯s a pretty name. Do you have any hobbies?¡± ¡°¡± ¡°Whoops, you caught me, haha. But it¡¯s true that I¡¯m curious what you like to do. Maybe that¡¯ll help you take your mind of things? I know that worked for me.¡± ¡°¡± ¡°Yes, I love the violin as well! I think my favourite piece is, uhm, Canon in D, the one by Bach!¡± Dear readers, Canon in D was, in fact, written by Pachelbel. ¡°¡± ¡°So your spouse plays the violin a lot¡­ Is your spouse here? Can you give him or her a call?¡± ¡°¡± ¡°So that¡¯s what happened. It must have been rough. I have a husband as well. I can¡¯t imagine the pain you¡¯ve gone through. Do you have family?¡± ¡°¡± ¡°Do you have family?¡± I must not have answered her if she repeated her question. ¡°¡± ¡°What¡¯s your daughter¡¯s name?¡± ¡°¡± ¡°How¡¯s Carice? Is Carice a good girl?¡± ¡°¡± ¡°That¡¯s nice to hear. You must be proud of her.¡± ¡°¡± Pear keeps nodding. It isn¡¯t until at least a minute later she speaks again. ¡°You¡¯ve got to keep that promise right? It would be troublesome to leave her alone. And I¡¯m sure she wouldn¡¯t want that either.¡± Pear treads carefully into the half circle. ¡°Do you have a picture of her? Perhaps I can have a look at her.¡± Continuing to walk inward the half circle, Pear extends her hand to grab something. Suddenly, out of thin air, a photo appears in her hand. I move in closer to take the photo out of her hand. In the photo, the three of us are there. Carice and Alex are looking at the camera, but I am looking, surprisingly, at Carice. Not Alex nor the camera. The face I had is one of determination. Looking at the background in the photo, I realise that the picture was taken in the hospital, quite possibly just before Alex¡¯s final surgery, meaning that our conversation in checkpoint B had already happened. Something clouds my vision. Maybe it¡¯s the sun. Maybe exhaust gas of the cars. I understand the meaning of this. Of everything. A pure white cat appears on my shoulder. Looking at me gently, it brings me to a familiar place. The pure white cat appears on your shoulder. Looking at you gently, it asks for a good rating. ¡°I¡¯m not sorry for the plug,¡± it says. Chapter 6 Checkpoint B; X11st time The dedication of Elgar¡¯s Salut d¡¯Amour was ¡°¨¤ Carice¡±. Carice is a combination of his wife¡¯s name and the name given to their daughter. Salut d¡¯Amour was an engagement present, something that symbolises the promise between lovers, and entrustment between parent and child. There¡¯s someone sitting on the chair beside Alex. That¡¯s me. I can see myself now. ¡°Can you promise me something?¡± ¡°Anything.¡± ¡°Promise me to live on after I die.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t say that.¡± ¡°But we both know it¡¯s true. I know you too well. If you don¡¯t promise me that, I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ll do something you¡¯ll regret.¡± ¡°I never do things that I regret! Hahaha!¡± ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant. I just don¡¯t want to see you be unhappy.¡± ¡°¡­Fine. I promise you.¡± ¡°Fantastic. Now I can go in peace.¡± Eyes closing, Alex lies on the bed. ¡°I¡± suddenly leaned forward and grabbed Alex¡¯s hands. ¡°Hahaha! You should¡¯ve looked at your face, idiot. I¡¯m just sleeping. I¡­ I¡­ can¡¯t¡­ Hahaha!¡± Alex continues. ¡°Before you go. One more thing.¡± ¡°Is it about Carice?¡± ¡°Yes, it is.¡± ¡°I promise you; I¡¯ll be a good parent for her.¡± ¡°The best.¡± ¡°Fine. The best parent for her.¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± ¡°I love you. See you tomorrow.¡± ¡°Bye.¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Sorry, Alex, I couldn¡¯t be the best parent for her. * Checkpoint D; X12nd time I walk into Carice¡¯s bedroom and there ¡°I¡± am, standing in front of Carice, holding a metal ruler. Stop it! I grab ¡°myself¡± and try to stop the person holding the ruler. But ¡°I¡± don¡¯t budge. I can do nothing to stop ¡°me¡±. Lips trembling, Carice mumbles, ¡°Please stop¡­¡± I suddenly remember what happened when I was in checkpoint one. I was helpless. I can¡¯t move. The only words I can utter were ¡°please stop¡±. I¡­ I¡­ did these. I¡¯m no better than Durian. How could I? I promised Alex. And ¡°I¡± didn¡¯t keep a single promise. I didn¡¯t keep a single promise. ¡°I¡± am wearing a disgusting smile. I¡¯m sure that person is having the time of their life, thinking they are doing everything good for their child, abusing their child in the name of discipline. Please stop, I beg you. Please, person with the ruler, stop. Can¡¯t you see she¡¯s hurting? She has bruises all over! I¡¯ll save you from that horrible person, Carice. I won¡¯t let anyone harm you! I try to drag Carice away from that monster. She doesn¡¯t move. She doesn¡¯t even notice me. It¡¯s like I¡¯m pulling a rock that won¡¯t budge. Carice curls up into a little ball, hiding her face. But I saw them. I saw her eyes. I saw the terror in them. I¡­ I¡­ I¡¯m sorry¡­ I¡¯m sorry! I¡¯m sorry! I¡¯m sorry! I¡¯m sorry for everything! I¡¯m sorry I¡¯m not a good parent! I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t listen to you! I¡¯m sorry I neglected you! ¡°Carice, please, can you forgive me?¡± I let out a plea. But she merely stares the monster in horror. Carice doesn¡¯t deserve this, and I don¡¯t deserve her. Instead, I deserve all the punishment there is, and I deserve the worst death there is. Please hate me. Please live free from me. Am I even allowed to apologise? I run outside the mansion, and I look back. The mansion is too big. It¡¯s a giant lump of stones and bricks designed solely for people to flaunt their wealth. The office is nothing but a superficial symbol. ¡°Look at me. I have this amazing office. I bet you can¡¯t afford it!¡± I confess. I never once liked the mansion. I fucking despise it. The longer I live in it, the more I want to off myself. The small apartment with all three of us is enough. Successful? Ptough. There exists only a dying person who doesn¡¯t know how to live with themselves. My knees give out and I break down crying. I hate myself. I hate the monster that I am. I destroyed the only thing that mattered to me. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Carice¡­ I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± * Checkpoint FOUR; X13rd time The white cat appears again, and I follow it outside the hospital. Perhaps Death is not a sassy child who toys with the dead, but rather a kind mother that gives people at their final moment a home to stay. It just so happens that it took me a bit too long to find my home. Watermelon is here. I close my eyes and let him stab me in my gut. I fall to the ground. The white cat lies next to me, sleeping. I whisper, ¡°Thank you.¡± Maybe a certain wizard headmaster will appear and tell me that everything happened, with the checkpoint or what-not, is in my head. Or maybe I¡¯ll just continue travelling to different checkpoints until the end of time. The only thing I know is that I¡¯ll pass this checkpoint in peace. Dear readers, if you never hear the end of this story, then know that I¡¯ve succeeded in escaping. I hope you never hear from me again. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± As blood comes dripping down, I¡­ 23:50. Afterthought Hope you enjoyed this short story! It¡¯s kind of like when ¡°Groundhog day¡± meets ¡°The Empty Box and Zeroth Maria¡± meets time-travelling shenanigans. The concept of this story is very simple: do you have something you want to apologise for to your loved ones? At the core, it¡¯s about a person finding out his/her wrongdoings and apologising for them. The story either all happened inside ¡°my¡± head, or really guided by Death. Which one do you think it is? One thing to note is I never specified the gender of ¡°me¡± and Alex. You¡¯re free to think of these characters however you like; I simply wrote them without a specific gender in mind. Abuse and loss of loved ones happen to everyone, and their impact doesn¡¯t diminish depending on your gender.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Please give this a good rating if you liked it! The white cat will be lurking to see who doesn¡¯t vote¡­ Give your thoughts in the comments as well! If you want something longer to read, check out my ongoing stories! And finally, have a wonderful day!