Town of Salem Rocks! It is such a good game with good animations and cool customization that isn't locked behind a paywall or at least it's not locked behind an IMPOSSIBLE paywall. I played Town of Salem for only 10 days and my brain increased in size to 10%!

week/dai/month ly copypasta:

"Johnny, Johnny," the man said to the dying boy.

Johnny stirred in his hospital bed. "Yes, papa?" he whispered. Gaunt, pale, and bald-- Johnny was very different from the boy that went fishing with papa every Sunday less than a year ago.

Papa felt himself smile. Johnny was not awake very often lately. "Eating sugar?" he asked, trying to recite the little nursery rhyme with his son.

But Johnny had drifted back to sleep. There was no response except for his shallow, labored breathing.

There was a soft knock at the door. It was Johnny's nurse. "Do you care if I check some vitals?" she asked quietly.

Papa's worn, hollow gaze did not leave his son's face. He didn't answer. He didn't care if she checked Johnny's vitals. He didn't care about anything anymore.

She went about her work in silence. After a few minutes, he was alone again with his son.

Johnny's mother didn't come to visit anymore. She said that if she saw him like that one more time, she would start screaming and never stop. Johnny asked about her sometimes. It made Papa mad-- it made Papa really mad-- but he understood why his wife felt the way she did. Papa had started screaming, internally, the moment the doctor gave him Johnny's diagnosis, and he had not stopped. He did not think he would ever stop.

Besides, Papa didn't think about his wife much these days. Every ounce of mental and emotional energy he had-- every ounce he had left, anyway-- was focused on his son. There were no other people in Papa's world, no other people except for him and his son. So he didn't think about his wife much. Sometimes he forgot about her entirely.

Johnny's breath faltered, and for one moment of pure, existential terror, Papa's heart stopped. But Johnny began breathing again, and Papa almost collapsed with relief. But there would come a day that Johnny did not start breathing again. And Papa did not know what would happen next.

He could not imagine a world without his son. His mind hit a wall every time he thought about it. He was physically unable to comprehend it. But soon, he would not only need to comprehend that world, but live in it. He would have to live in it every day for the rest of his life.

"I did not consent to this," he whispered. Then, he screamed. "I DID NOT CONSENT TO THIS!!!"

The staff outside carried on, unfazed. They had probably seen random yelling like this before. They had probably seen it a lot.

Papa was yelling at random more and more these days. Maybe it was all the Valium he was taking. He did not recall if odd behavior was a side effect. All he really recalled was his personal doctor handing him a script for the largest amount he could legally dispense, with a note to call any time if Papa needed more.

Papa was disappointed, after doing some research, to learn that taking the whole bottle would not kill him.

Johnny stirred in his bed again, breaking Papa's train of thought. But after a moment he lay still.

The pastor at church had called Papa into his private office shortly after Johnny's diagnosis. He went on and on about how God moves in mysterious ways, and we cannot understand His will, but we can take comfort in the thought that God wants the best for us. Papa stared at him and said, quietly, that if there was a God in heaven who could have stopped this, but didn't, that after Papa died, he would try to kill Him.

That was the end of that conversation.

Not long ago, Papa had tried to take Johnny to his favorite restaurant-- McDonald's of all places-- to have one last hamburger, one last milkshake. But Johnny couldn't keep his food down. He couldn't even hold a sip of water. But he smiled at Papa and squeezed his hand, saying it was alright, he was just happy to be out of the hospital with his dad.

Yes, God moves in mysterious ways. God moves in very mysterious ways. One must wonder if God moves at all.

Papa screamed and trashed his house when he made it home that afternoon. All he wanted was to have one last fry with his sweet little boy. He didn't want money, or fame, or health, or inner peace, or anything like that. All he wanted, ALL he wanted, was a healthy son.

And that's all he couldn't have.

The pastor was not the only one who had tried to comfort Papa, of course. His sister-in-law sat with him on the front stoop and told him, gently, to trust what the Universe has in store for him. He hit her. He had never hit a woman before. His brother came and tried to lay on some tough love-- everybody's gotta die someday, and some parents gotta lose their children, you gotta man up, Papa-- and he hit him too.

Papa wondered if anyone in his family would talk to him after all this. Probably not. Not that he cared.

After the McDonald's episode, Johnny was too sick to go out. Papa tried to take him out, though. He went to the desk and asked for the paperwork for a TTV so he could take Johnny to the lake for a picnic and the nurse behind the desk said something about Johnny being medically unfit, doctor's orders, and after a couple of minutes of back-and-forth Papa screamed and jumped across the counter because he wanted to kill her, to kill this woman who was stopping him from having one last outing with his son.

Security escorted him out. Said they wouldn't press charges. They were understanding.

So Papa went alone. He drove to the lake all by himself, sobbing like a child. He had thought he was all cried out, that there was no way he could ever get those waterworks going again, not after all the crying that happened in the beginning, but he cried now. He cried and cried and cried.

Papa rented a canoe and let himself drift on the lake. It was a beautiful day. The sun was out, the wind was gently caressing his face, and for one horrible moment, Papa forgot... Papa forgot that his son was sick. He recoiled in horror-- the guilt, the shame, HOW COULD HE FORGET-- and he realized a terrible truth-- the only way for him to be happy was to forget about his son.

Papa wondered if he would ever actually be happy again.

He stayed in that boat for a long time. The brief moment of forgetfulness had been nice, but the return to reality... It was like the reverse feeling of waking up after a nightmare. His life was the nightmare, and there was no escaping it.

Papa's thoughts returned to the room. Johnny was sound asleep, breathing slowly, deeply. There seemed to be a slight smile on his face. They had him on some heavy pain meds, and it seemed that at least for now, he was at peace.

Papa thought that it would be alright if time just stopped now. If the rest of his eternity was spent sitting next to his sweet little boy, his sweet little boy who didn't deserve ANY of this, watching him drift lazily in the twilight of the narcotics in his veins. Perfectly peaceful. Perfectly safe.

Papa laid his head gently on Johnny's chest. He relaxed as he felt the gentle rise... and fall... rise... and fall of Johnny's breathing. Papa did not cry. He was all cried out. He did not think he would ever cry again.

Then, Papa felt Johnny's hand reach for his. Johnny squeezed, and Papa's heart was filled with joy at that simple, beautiful sign of life. But Papa also felt fear. Fear that it would be the last time.

But it was not the last. Not now. Not this time.

Papa let his head rest on Johnny's chest. He closed his eyes. He was going to forget about the world for a while. He was going to forget about sickness, and hospitals, and death. He was going to think only of his son, feel the warmth emenating from his body, the life in his movements, the smile on his face as the pain medicine massaged away any feelings of pain or anxiety. Yes, it would be alright if time just stopped right now. It would be perfectly, beautifully alright if time stopped now.

But it didn't.

Link is here: https://www.reddit.com/r/copypasta/comments/9jfqwz/johnny_johnny_the_man_said_to_the_dying_boy/