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Articles by Rachel Foster
Todd Blanche Failed Epstein Survivors Again
By Rachel Foster I was in the meeting on July 16 when Acting Attorney General Todd Blanche finally met with survivors of Jeffrey Epstein’s decades-long abuse. For nine months, these women had repeatedly requested a meeting with Blanche and were ignored. Only after Sen. Thom Tillis (R-NC) made clear that Blanche’s confirmation depended on meeting with the survivors did Blanche scramble to arrange a hasty last-minute meeting.
Behind Me
that something stands behind me. It does not need proof. It sits beside you at dinner. It rides home in the passenger seat. It waits outside the bathroom door you are not afraid. I feel it standing at the foot of my bed. As if it knows As if it has all the time Perhaps that is what frightens me most. Not that something is there. But that it has always been there. maybe I have been carrying it Maybe every glance over my shoulder The house knows this. The walls keep still.
The Boy from Bogger Hollow
When eleven-year-old Eli Foster arrived in Bogger Hollow, Arkansas, nobody knew where he came from. No information let of his birth either. The county records listed him as a foster child transferred from another state. No surviving family. No history worth mentioning. Mr. and Mrs. Holloway took him in. At first, Eli seemed like any other quiet child. And every morning, Eli returned from the forest covered in mud. The woods behind Bogger Hollow were feared by everyone.
My Sons and Survival
Even after I left, it never truly felt over. At night, I could hear him outside sometimes, walking around the yard like he was searching for a way back into our lives. There were moments when I thought he might try to break inside, so I stayed alert constantly, barely sleeping and always listening for movement. After the police became involved, the stalking slowly faded, but the fear never fully disappeared. By then, survival had become my entire life.
JESSICA
The Last Train Out M Mehran The clock on the station wall read 11:47 PM when Detective Sarah Chen realized she'd made a terrible mistake. She'd been tracking Marcus Webb for eighteen months—a man so careful, so calculated, that following him felt like chasing smoke. But tonight, on this abandoned platform at the edge of the city, everything had finally come together. Except nothing was going according to plan. Sarah's radio crackled. "Units approaching from the north," dispatch confirmed. Good.
My Life and Loss
This story may contain sensitive material or discuss topics that some readers may find distressing. Reader discretion is advised. The views and opinions expressed in this story are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Vocal.
A Different Path Forward
For many years, I searched for answers outside of myself. I tried different treatments, followed health trends, and listened to advice from many sources—hoping something would finally fix what my body was going through. I was constantly looking for something that would bring relief or restore the life I once knew. But no one truly understands the pain and isolation that come with it.There are parts of this journey that are difficult to explain, especially when the illness is not always visible.
UNKNOWN PRESENCE
my bedroom is too quiet— the kind of quiet that listens back. and feel it before I understand it— that shift in the air, that subtle weight behind me like a shadow that doesn’t belong to light. I tell myself I’m alone. I say it out loud, even. no sound clear enough to name— just the suggestion of movement, like the room remembering someone who isn’t supposed to be here. the space behind the door where fear always hides in stories. like I used to as a child when storms pressed against the house.
When I Woke UP
This happened on a Sunday night. I went to sleep around midnight, thinking nothing of it. Just another night, nothing unusual. I was back at my grandparents’ house in a small southern town in Louisiana. The house looked exactly how I remembered it—low ceilings, worn wooden floors, and shelves lined with glass bottles filled with things I never dared ask about. Oils, roots, powders. Remedies my grandmother trusted more than doctors. But something felt off. The air was thick. Not just warm—heavy.
I made it Worst
I’d like to apologize—for being honest. I understand now that when someone asks for honesty, they’re usually hoping for something a little more… edited. Something softer. Something that sounds like the truth without actually feeling like it. That was my mistake. At the time, I thought I was doing exactly what you asked—answering directly, clearly, without confusion. I didn’t realize honesty came with limits I was supposed to understand without being told. So yes, I’m sorry for that.
Sorry About That-You Asked For Honesty
We are both still becoming. She learned to open her wings without asking permission. I’m still learning how to take up space without apologizing for it. She rises easily now, carried by something she trusts. I’m still figuring out how to trust anything that doesn’t ask me to shrink first. There was a time I made myself smaller. Quieter. Easier to accept. I thought that was how you stayed safe—how you stayed loved.
I Tried to help
I Tried to Help In 2013, my loved one started getting sick. At first, it came and went. Some days were better than others, and we held onto those good days like they meant everything. Life became about adjusting—learning what they could handle, what they couldn’t, and finding a way to keep going anyway. For years, that’s what we did. We learned routines. We learned what to avoid. We learned how to live around the illness instead of letting it take over completely.
Stay a While
Sue had grown tired of the city—the noise, the constant movement, the feeling of being surrounded yet completely alone. Two weeks off. No obligations. No one to answer to. Just a quiet drive from California to a small rural town in Lafayette County, Arkansas—a place she’d read about online, known for an exclusive, underground fashion showcase. The drive felt like a release. Open roads. Empty skies. Silence that didn’t demand anything from her. But the town felt different the moment she arrived.
The Signal Didn’t Come From Space
The Signal Didn’t Come From Space Kiya had trained her whole life for moments like this. An emergency alert from Alpha One Station didn’t just happen without reason. Still, as she suited up for launch, excitement sat heavy in her chest, mixed with something colder. Unease. There had been no confirmed contact. No clear distress message. Just silence. And that was worse. The ship docked with Alpha One without resistance. That was the first thing that felt wrong. No docking crew. No automated greeting.
Microsoft Cares About Your Privacy The checkout secret: 12 items placed near the register that are designed to break your budget
Use precise geolocation data and actively scan device characteristics for identification. This is done to store and access information on a device and to provide personalised advertising and content, advertising and content measurement, audience research and services development. List of partners (vendors) Rachel Foster 1. Candy Bars: The Original Checkout Trap : In the 1950s, candy bars became checkout staples, engineered for quick emotional reward through sugar, nostalgia, and pure convenience.
Why former hotel staff say you should always turn off the lights before entering a room
Most travelers walk into a hotel room, toss their bag on the bed, and never think twice about flicking on every light in the place. It feels natural, even instinctive. Yet former hotel employees and security professionals have been quietly passing along a very different piece of advice for years: turn off the lights before entering a new room, or at the very least, take a moment to scan the space in darkness before settling in.
The Epstein Files Release is a Failure. Survivors Deserve Better.
By Rachel Foster More than 50 days past the legal deadline, the Department of Justice declared it has completed its release of the Epstein files and that no other action will be taken.
The House must vote to release the Epstein files
For decades, the survivors of Jeffrey Epstein, Ghislaine Maxwell, and their predatory network have carried their stories of their sexual abuse and exploitation alone while those who perpetrated crimes against them have enjoyed impunity. Institutions looked away, gatekeepers in politics, finance, and culture stayed silent, and powerful people counted on secrecy to protect them. And it worked to shield them from any accountability—until now. This week, Congress faces a clear test.
The National Failure at the Heart of the Jeffrey Epstein Story
Jurisprudence Sign up for the Slatest to get the most insightful analysis, criticism, and advice out there, delivered to your inbox daily. It is a great challenge to pay sustained attention to any one of the onslaught of moral or legal indignities unfolding in this moment. The failure, however, to continue to talk and think broadly about the crimes of Jeffrey Epstein and those who participated in them—a story that has dipped in recent weeks—would be a spectacular national oversight.
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