Emily Hodson's Blog

May 23, 2015

Hello all,
as you know, I have been working on my Pretty Unlikely Trilogy since 2008 pretty much on my own. I've had some help along the way but mainly I've just been taking peoples' feedback, cutting unnecessary stuff out, and tweaking things here and there. My book went from 370 pages to a cleaned up 330 pages. The cover was also updated. I hired a professional to make my cover as captivating as possible. Check it out :)

Pretty Unlikely: Bloody Extended Edition

Also, LIKE my pages if you haven't already:)


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Published on May 23, 2015 19:02 • 54 views • Tags: a-little-new-info, author, awesome, cool-stuff, horror, indie, mystery, new-edition, oregon, portland, thriller, young-adult

April 2, 2015

Please message me through goodreads or email me at prettyunlikelytrilogy@gmail.com to inquire. In exchange for the free book I would like an honest review and rating on goodreads :) thanks guys!
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Published on April 02, 2015 15:08 • 40 views • Tags: author, book, fiction, free, giveaway, sci-fi, self-published, supernatural, teen, young-adult

March 24, 2015

Another short story :)

Dear Miss Shuester,
We are pleased to inform you that Harold Miles Publishing Company has received a copy of your novel, Abby Tox. Due to the lack of originality and high volume of submissions we receive, we are unable to publish your works. With a little more practice and better structured sentences, we know you’ll go far in life. Good luck and thank you for inquiring!
Best Regards,
The Staff from Harold Miles Publishing Company

Iris sits back on her chair, tossing back a bottle of Imperial Barrel Aged Gin while crumpling up the newest rejection letter. Her jet black hair is blowing in the air as the mini heater goes its maximum speed on her desk.
“Now let’s see what we got here,” she reads the computer screen aloud, skimming through the craigslist ads in the apartment section. “Not a bad downgrade.” She clicks on the pipsqueak studio. “No pets allowed?” she huffs, looking down at her grey kitten, Stella. “Forget it.” Iris exits the computer screen, taking another swig of gin.
She turns on the television. The news always cheered her up, the way it talked about topics like future earthquakes, the Ferguson uproar, Kim Kardashian’s new stilettos, or any other ridiculous thing a worker could pull out of their ass. After taking countless journalism courses, Iris knew the news was keen on selling sex, fear and bull shit to the audience.
“Bastards.” She turns off the television after briefly seeing a crowd put up some strike.
A walk is in favor for Iris now, since the night is cold and being rejected only makes her self-esteem slowly dissolve. She puts on her favorite old blue sweater and winter boots. With a slam of the door, Iris departs her apartment. There’s already text messages flowing from her boyfriend, aunt, mother, sister, and grandpa. She hasn’t touched her phone in three days due to her latest edits of Abby Tox. The novel was about a British woman going to college in Alaska, struggling with debt and getting by in life. The catch in this story though is her classmate crush impregnates her with an unborn alien baby who will eventually take over the world. Original? No. Amusing? Yes.
“Stupid,” Iris mutters, her face scrunching up as she pushes through the snow.
She knew her story could have been better. She’d been working on it for five years though with countless revisions. Her bright green eyes become worn from deprived sleep as she walks through the eye-watering cold. It was surprising how much snow had accumulated this year in a state where it rained more than ever. The phone begins to ring in her pocket, loudly and abruptly. Iris hates the phone and pretty much anything having to do with technology. She only ever used her laptop for writing purposes. No internet at all by choice and of course the news, for laughing matters.
“Iris! How are you? Haven’t heard from you in a while!”
“I’ve been busy, Mom. I’m fine, just walking to 7/11.”
“To buy more smokes?”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not seventeen anymore. I’ll do whatever I want; I’m an adult.”
“Barely twenty-four. I worry about you. I love and miss you, you know.”
“Please don’t worry.”
“How’s the job hunt going?”
“Same. No calls. Interviews leading to nothing. The usual.”
“You still writing?”
“I wish you’d focus more on finding a career.”
“It’s not my fault the economy sucks. Unless you know of someone who will hire an English major, Journalism minor? Please hook me up. Please.”
“I’m sorry you’re having a rough time getting by but it’s that damn writing holding you back! You and I both know it’s a dead end dream. It’s like wanting to be an actress or singer. You’ve gotta know someone or get lucky.”
“Thanks for the support, Mom.”
“I just want to help. You’ve had this dream since you were little and it pains me to see you fail. It’s just such a cruel world out there, sweetie. I want you to be happy and succeed in life, not hold on to a dream that’s almost impossible to achieve.”
“Whatever you say, Mom. Maybe I should take out another forty grand in loans and be a lawyer, like Dad. Seems to be the only rational thing to do at this point in my life.”
“Honey, you only graduated college a few years ago. You’ll get something in your field soon. Just have to focus and give writing a rest for a while.”
Iris swings open the door of 7/11, causing an annoying “ding dong” entrance sound. Her eyes shoot immediately toward the front counter. Nothing else can distract her at this point in time, no matter how big the cookie or how tempting a delicious bottle of tea sounded right now. Her thirst quenched for something much more appetizing and…dry.
“I’ll get my usual, Muhammad.” Iris pays the clerk in cash and receives her fresh pack of smokes.
“Should we come over and visit?”
“Not right now. I don’t want to trouble you guys. It’s such a hassle flying from Michigan to Oregon. I’ll be fine.” She takes a puff of the fresh cigarette, closing her eyes as the cold sinks inside her paper-thin eyelids.
“Okay. I love you. Please quit smoking and call me soon.”
“I love you too. Bye.”
“Be sure to-”
Iris hangs up, heading towards her apartment. The snow is so cold, she feels it sink through her cheap fake Ugg boots. Her face scrunches up again as the second puff makes her feel better and worse at the same time.
“God Damnit,” she grunts, self-reflecting on the newest rejection letter and overall accomplishment of her works throughout the years. Winning Best Story from a local writer’s group or Best Writer in high school didn’t count for shit.
Why was Abby Tox the protagonist of her novel? Why another alien story? Why did the main character have to be British? After getting so many rejection letters throughout the years, they started to look blurry to Iris each time she read one. It’d always been the same thing, different wording. The last rejection letter was from a company much smaller than ones she’d mailed to in the past, but it didn’t make it any easier. It was the 50th rejection letter to this date. She thought the big fifty would somehow be a sign that this could be her shot. An opportunity for hope. After revising hundreds of times and having her classmates at PSU edit her story throughout the years, something had to give. It couldn’t always be like this. Not on her watch.
“Darin?” Iris looks as if she’s a deer caught in headlights. “What are you doing here?” She puts her cigarette out immediately.
“Well, I haven’t heard from my girlfriend in three days, ya know. So…yeah. Just checking on you and what not.” He shuffles his Cole Haan shiny wing-tipped shoes through the snow. His dirty blonde hair is slightly messy.
“I’m so sorry, I should have-”
“Don’t worry. I figured you were hibernating with your writing, like you always do.”
“Yeah. Right.” She shakes her head, unlocking the door.
“If it’s a bad time, I could always leave. I understand you-”
Iris’s lips cuts his sentence off. Darin’s kisses always felt so warm and soft every time, she couldn’t pass the opportunity up. The day they first kissed, Iris knew he wasn’t like her one night stands or short term boyfriends. She jumps into his arms, wrapping her legs around him as he carefully holds her up, shutting the door behind them.
* * *
“Morning, babe.” Iris climbs on top of Darin, kissing his lips lightly to wake him up. “I made you breakfast.” She nuzzles her nose with his.
Darin slowly opens his chocolate brown eyes, groaning from the early wake up call. “Mmm, five more minutes, babe.” He rolls over, grabbing the covers to warm up his naked body. It had been cold throughout the night and Iris’s heater was broken.
Iris sips coffee in her purple robe, rolling her eyes at Darin’s laziness. “You have work in an hour.” She shakes him.
“Call in for me.” He sits up, pulling Iris back into bed with him.
“Um, coffee!” She saves the cup from spilling and places it on the end table.
“You have an important meeting today, remember?” Iris shows him his written down notes and prepared speech.
“Shit!” He jolts out of bed, running toward the shower. Not even five minutes later, he rushes out, putting on the same suit as yesterday. “Can I borrow your tooth brush and deodorant, babe?” He fixes his hair in the mirror, frantically looking for a brush.
Iris chuckles. “We’ve been together two years and you ask me that?”
“Sorry, I’m tired.”
“Second drawer. I need to shower for my job too.”
“At Starbucks?”
“No, a law firm,” Iris retorts back. Her face scrunches up at the thought of work today.
“Hey now. Chin up.”
Darin was a lot like her father but that wasn’t why she dated him. Her mom had always told her to date wealthy and mature men, not the bad boys. It took her twenty-one-years to leave the bad boy stage, but it was worth it. She had a feeling Darin was long-term commitment material. They had met in college when he was a senior majoring in accounting, so this was a good sign. He was tall and cute enough in the face. Iris couldn’t lose him, but sometimes she felt writing took ahold of her love life.
“Babe, I know you’re still bent up about the rejection letter. You’ll get a writing job soon, I’m sure. Just be patient.”
“You say it like it’s so easy. I have a degree too, ya know. I just kinda got shit outta luck. It’s not like I’m not trying for regular jobs.” Iris squeezes his waist from behind as he brushes his teeth frantically.
He smothers lady’s deodorant under his arms and grabs the toast on the table, leaving the eggs behind. “I gotta run, babe. We’ll talk later. Love you. Make a lot of tips today!” He gives her a peck on the cheek and leaves immediately.
Iris feeds Stella and sighs, heading into the bathroom. She strips off her clothes. There’s half a bottle of gin left from last night on the bathroom counter. She decides to take it into the shower with her, figuring it’d be best not to waste since it was accidentally left open. She swigs it with a sour face, setting it down on the bathtub as she washes herself. There’s no way she can go to work sober today. It was fifty rejection letters too late to act normal anymore.
* * *
Iris blinks while looking out the window, ignoring the person’s cleared throat.
“Excuse me, Ma’am? Can you hear me?”
The question is clearly out in the open. Yes, she hears the customer but does she want to? Iris isn’t really there mentally. Only physically by force, in her apron and dirty work clothes she’s already worn three times in a row. There are other things on her mind by a far minute. All she can think about is how her life got so fucked up. How she doesn’t deserve her devoted boyfriend, caring but condescending parents, cute little kitten, or anything else in life. She’d never live up to her own expectations with writing so what was the point of living anymore or functioning properly? All she did was drink and smoke her sorrows away. A big drunk. She was a worthless piece of shit.
“Ma’am?” The snappy tone finally rings Iris’s ears. She pulls her head away from the window and makes eye contact with the pissed off customer.
“Yes?” Iris chokes out.
“Where’s my damn coffee? I’ve been waiting ten minutes! You said you were going to brew me a new pot,” the flustered businessman says.
Her red blotchy eyes stare into the stranger’s eyes, trying to be coherent. “I’m so sorry. I will get on…to that.” Iris looks out the window again.
“Yep, yep.” She finally turns around to look for a coffee filter. The cupboard is unorganized with coffee grinds and droplets of old milk everywhere. All of the filters are out so she decides to look in the back room.
“Where do you think you’re going? I’m running late to a meeting because of you!”
Iris turns around, partly stumbling, giving an attempted apologetic look. “I’m s-s-so sorry. We’re out of filters so I need to go get some in the back. It will be just one moment.” She almost trips over her own feet.
“The hell with another moment! I want my refund!” he barks like a mad bulldog. The unsettling man drops his briefcase at the counter and crosses his arms.
“Excuse me, is there a problem?” Katie, Iris’s twenty-six-year-old criminal justice degree manager steps toward the front of the counter in her black apron, determined to fix the problem.
“Yeah. Your damn barista has been standing around. She didn’t even brew my coffee!”
“I’m so sorry sir, it will not happen again. Here is a free drink on us.” Katie pulls out a coupon from her apron and places it in the man’s strong hands. She immediately refunds him after that. Two whole dollars he paid for.
“In my office, now.” She barks at Iris in public with a finger pointing toward the back room. The middle-aged business man leaves with a free drink card and no coffee. He is mumbling to himself on the way out about running late.
“Yes, ma’am.” Iris stumbles as she follows Katie to her small office.
“Mind telling me what’s going on?” She sneers and locks eyes with the wobbly Iris.
“I’m fine, Katie.” Iris’s mouth fills with saliva as she tries to fill out each word to say to her boss.
“What’s the matter with you? Sit down.”
“I-” Iris stumbles again after attempting to sit on the cushioned office chair.
“Oh my God,” her manager gasps, watching Iris’s puke flow directly on her desk.
* * *
The wind kicks in as Iris fights the cold through the short-distanced walk home. She’s carrying everything from her locker at Starbucks. Darin is waiting at the entrance of her apartment, holding his head heavily in his hands as he sits against the front door.
“Darin?” Iris’s drunkenness is slowly fading, but not fast enough. “A-a-aren’t you supposed to be at work?” She has a cigarette in her hand as her fingers shiver in the cold.
“I’m on a lunch. What’s the matter with your eyes? They’re red.”
“Nothing. Just sick.” She looks down at the ground, trying to finish the halfway-smoked cigarette.
“Put that out. You know how I feel about smoking, Iris. Thought you quit a few months ago.” Darin grabs her cigarette and throws it to the ground, blending it in with his shoe.
“I can do what I want!” Her mouth fills with saliva again as she tries to fish for the hidden keys in her messy purse.
“Are you drunk?” Darin studies her eyes.
“I got fired.”
“Katie’s a cunt.”
“Since when do you use the word ‘cunt’? It’s such a vile word.” Darin slams the door behind them after Iris finally finds the keys to her apartment. Her arms practically explode from the overflow of stuff.
“Since now, God Damnit!”
“Iris, I know it’s a bad time to do this, but I think we should break up.” He looks down at the floor, focusing his eyes on Stella.
She chuckles after staring him down for a moment. “Yeah, go fuck yourself, you condescending, selfish, greedy, spoiled, messed up, materialistic asshole,” she slurs.
“Iris, calm down.”
“No!” She throws everything on the ground. “Nothing ever goes good in my life! All I want is to be somebody…anyone and what do I get in return? Shitty job offers, unsupportive parents and a shitty apartment I can’t afford! When is it my turn? My big break? I did what I was told! I got a damn college degree and what’s the outcome? No career offer in my field. Not even close. And what do you get?” Iris glares into his deceiving eyes. “A high class job with your own little office and a starting sixty fucking grand a year. I can’t help but feel so belittled beside you.”
“Iris, I’m sorry you don’t have a job anym-”
“Shut up, Darin!” Iris grabs a plate and throws it against the wall. It shatters into tiny pieces. “I know you judge my dreams! I’m sorry I fucked up in college! I’m sorry I’m not like other girls. I’m sorry I made you wait six months to sleep with me. I’m sorry I’m not as pretty as your ex-girlfriends. I’m sorry I’m so messed up. I’m sorry I stutter. I’m sorry I smoke! I’m sorry I’m an alcoholic! I’m sorry I’m a writer, just please don’t leave me!” She drops to the ground. Her eyes are so smothered in tears, she can hardly breathe. “I have nobody else,” she sobs. “Please, p-p-please don’t leave me.”
“Oh, come on, you have Stella. Come here, girl.” Darin picks up her clueless grey kitten, petting her gently. “So soft and lonely. Now that you don’t have a job, you two can be best friends! Need a cup of water? You seem really drained out right now.” He sets Stella down and she runs in the bedroom immediately. A smirk emerges Darin’s mouth in an almost subtle way.
“That’s not the same and you know it!” Iris bawls again, choking on her tears, still in shock from the overall turn of events. A month ago, they were talking about going to Brazil together. The thought made her face flush up. Plans were going to be different now.
“I’ve tried to make this work, Iris. I can’t stand your little ‘writer cleanses’ any longer.”
“You never expressed hating it!” She hugs him as tightly as possible. “Baby, I’m sorry!”
“Please get off me.”
“I love you though. I’m sorry! I’ll change, I swear!” Iris’s nose begins to stuff up from all the excessive tears that stream down her burning face.
“I think you love the idea of me, Iris.” Darin begins to head towards the door.
“Don’t go, please! I thought we were heading in a good direction. You said you wanted kids someday after marrying me in Paris.”
Darin begins to chuckle a little bit. “Oh dear.” He then lets out a loud snicker.
“Why the hell are you laughing?”
“Because you’re being dramatic. Besides, Darling, don’t you think if I loved you enough, I’d invite you to move into my three bedroom condo? Surely I wouldn’t want you to suffer like you are now in this overpriced get up you have. As far as Paris goes, that was just a lie to get your low sex drive up. Had to bribe you with something. I’m a guy, what can I say?” He laughs again.
“I gave you two years of my life! What kind of sick person are you? Two whole years and you decide to tell me this now? I gave you two whole years, two whole years, you heartless bastard!”
“And it was fun while it lasted, baby.”
“Why are we so wrong together?” Iris whispers.
“Because you’re chasing something a million miles away and I’m living in something a few miles away. I have what I need right now and you don’t. Why would I want to raise kids with a woman who is so delusional? You made a poor choice in your degree and have a very impossible far-fetched goal in life. Half the guys in my office claim to be ‘writers.’ How many others do you think are out there? Let’s be realistic and not play pretend anymore; your book sucks anyways. You are not special. It’s time to grow up, Iris. I wish you well and hope you can find a man who’ll support you. I certainly can’t. I also can’t stand to cheat again. I already feel guilty after doing it a year.”
His face suddenly turns beat red from Iris’s wobbly fist. Her insides feel jittery after punching someone for the first time. She kicks him square in the balls next, followed by slapping his face as hard as her body could take.
“I hate you!” she finally shrieks.
“Darin!” She throws another swing but he catches her fist, squeezing it. His hand is twice the size of hers. Darin begins to bend her hands backwards until she screams at the top of her lungs in pain.
“Now listen to me and value every word I say.” Darin slams her against the wall in restraint, slowly twisting her wrists back again. “No one will ever love a woman who wraps herself up inside worlds that don’t exist. Places that don’t link with reality will only bring you down, isolating you from potential friends and relationships. You are a crazy, delusional, reserved freak of nature and if you don’t change your ways, you’ll be a single crazy cat lady for eternity. Mark my words, Iris, this is the best advice you will ever get. Your novel has taken ahold of your personal life. You need to stop writing for good or other people will leave too.” Darin finally releases her. He walks out the door so fast, it’s almost unreal.
Iris’s eyes stare at the front door for several minutes. Her eyes are filled with fresh tears as she sits on the cold floor. Stella jumps in her lap as Iris continues to zone out, her body shivering and heart beating faster than usual.
* * *
“Sure is a nice prize you have here.” The old man wearing a flannel shirt eyes the front seat of Iris’s vehicle the next morning.
“Thank you. I like it.”
“Why you getting rid of it?”
“Because I don’t need it anymore.”
“Fair enough. How much is this thing anyways?” He spits out his chew.
“Five grand.”
“Can I talk you into forty-two hundred? That’s all I have on me.” The man with missing teeth scratches his balding head and lifts up his baggy, dirty work jeans.
“Sure, it’ll be your lucky day.” She smiles at him softly, even though she could really use that extra stack of money.
“Thanks, sweet lady.” He hands her his dirty cash in full and drives off with the little blue car she’d had since seventeen. Small slivers of tears leave Iris’s eyes but she soon cheers up.
Iris heads back into her apartment with the cash immediately stuffed inside an older wallet. She showers before making her final move today. The apartment is still occupied though. No doubt there’s clothes crammed inside closets, dirty dishes, furniture, a crappy bed, and tons of stuffed animals and other random shenanigans, but that wouldn’t stop Iris at all from leaving. The letter she’d sent this morning to her family had a legitimate explanation. Her parents could deal with the abandoned premise; it was the least they could do for their daughter. Iris sighs as she grabs her keys from the table. Three suitcases are already full and Stella is in her crate, meowing like crazy.
“Come on, sweetie.”
* * *
Iris has her passport ready to show the blonde flight attendant waiting in the boarding area. The flight was going to be full but as long as she had Stella, things would be okay.
“Shh,” she cooed at Stella who was meowing under her seat. “It’ll be alright.”
She closes her eyes as other people fill the plane gradually. The fresh and revised version of Abby Tox is tucked in her purse securely. A fan blows in her face while anxiously awaiting take off. Semisonic’s “Closing Time” begins to play in the background, barely loud enough for Iris to hear, but clear enough to relate to the song. A static sound goes over the intercom, opening Iris’s eyes immediately.
“Hello and welcome to British Airways. In just a few minutes, we will be departing from New York City, flying non-stop to the London Heathrow Apartment with a flight duration of five hours and fifteen minutes. We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts and turn off all electronic and mobile devices before we depart. Thank you for choosing British Airways! Happy flying!”
Iris smiles as she closes her eyes. In a few minutes, she’ll be leaving America forever with Stella. New beginnings will happen for her. Bad or good, successful or unsuccessful, single or taken, Iris was going to do it all, no matter the outcome
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Published on March 24, 2015 17:43 • 54 views
Enjoy a short story piece by me :)

The end of Gabriel’s cigarette sends an ash taste through his mouth, causing a slight choke. He fishes in his pocket for another. Fourth one in two hours. His red, white and blue lighter forms a focused bright light surrounding the pitch black porch around the apartment. The first inhale is always his favorite. Gabriel closes his eyes and smiles slightly as the near A.M. reaches the much wasted day.
“You’ve gotta lay off, man.” Gabriel’s best friend, Joey, waves the smoky air away from his smothered-cologne body. He is overly dressed, as usual, having his best Calvin Klein scent on, a red cashmere sweater clinging tightly to his body, and skinny jeans that hug him perfectly during the unfortunate breeze. The full moon is out, tinted in a beige color, standing almost in front of Gabriel’s apartment, almost waiting to come in.
“What? I always smoke late.” Gabriel inhales another, blowing “O’s” straight up into the air. The small gust of wind snatches it, disappearing from the world.
“Dude, the fact that you know how to blow ‘O’ shapes says you have a smoking problem.” Joey rolls his eyes.
“You don’t see me getting mad about your drinking problem.” Gabriel is bitter toward his condescending best friend. He’s one to talk.
“What drinking problem?” Joey huffs. He sits on a chair, watching the fast cars zoom past them on the small patio.
Gabriel chuckles a bit as he takes another drag. “Come on, four nights a week at bars? I know you by now and I know you have a drinking problem.”
“Who doesn’t?” Joey opens up a Coors Light, chugging half within seconds. “How about this. As long as you admit you have a smoking problem, I’ll admit I have a drinking problem, deal?” He puts out his strikingly tan hands.
“Deal.” Gabriel comes to terms with his best friend of twenty years as they both watch the night grow longer.
“So what we doing tonight? Bar? Club? Show? I’m feeling like my new clothes need to get ripped off by some lucky lady.” Joey chugs his entire bottle, throwing it in Gabriel’s old cigarette butt and bottle bin. It’s already overflowing from a week’s worth of debris.
Gabriel glares slightly at his buddy. He knows Joey can get almost anyone he wants with that body and face but it doesn’t help that Gabriel is lacking muscles and height. Being only five-eight had its downfalls, especially when bar hopping with Joey who is six-three.
“Come on!” Joey urges. “It’s getting late. I think we still have time to rumble around town and see what’s in season, eh? What do you say?” He nudges Gabriel and laughs as all the polluted thoughts process through his head.
“Do you ever give it a rest? I don’t have time for sex anymore. With finals coming up and working two jobs, where do I fit in a quickie?”
“Gotta prioritize man, gotta prioritize.” Joey pats Gabriel on the back. He sits back and runs his fingers through his slicked back brown hair.
“Should I get some gel to start?”
“You know they like it,” Joey winks.
“It looks unsanitary.”
“It looks like you’re making up any excuse to not get laid, ever since Allie broke up with you. It’s been what? Two months and you can’t even look at another woman?” Joey starts to shake his head.
“It’s not that, I’m just done with dating. I mean, I’m flattered women like me but I’m twenty-three next month and my life is just constantly going going going. I don’t have time even if I wanted to.”
“So that’s what ‘one night stand’ means.” Joey starts to laugh. “You know what that is, right? It’s this great perk for people who don’t have the time nor energy to take a nice lady out. It’s called saving money and instant gratification, baby.” He winks at his skeptical best friend.
“I know what it means, dipshit. I don’t even have energy for that.” Gabriel finishes his cigarette, flicking it over the porch. “I have at least four hours of organic chemistry homework. Fucking Britney gave me all the work to do.”
“Isn’t that the one chick with big tits? From our theater class last year?”
“Fucking make a move! I would tear that shit up if she was my lab partner.” Joey gets up from excitement to stretch.
“She’s okay-looking.”
“You gay?”
“Fuck you, man. Besides, I’m more of an ass man.”
“Excuses, excuses,” Joey tsks. “I am so glad I came over here.” He shakes his head again, pacing around the porch Gabriel settled for. Joey grew up in wealth and security. The porch was his least favorite thing about his best friend’s small apartment. Compared to the condo his parents bought him, Gabriel pretty much lived in a crap shack.
“Why?” Gabriel snapped a little. “So you can drink all my beer and lecture me about sex?”
“Well, all you’ve been doing is sleeping and going to school the past two months. You haven’t even had time to hit the gym with me.” Joey smacks Gabriel’s nonexistent muscles on his arms.
“I know.” Gabriel’s shagged blonde hair starts to move with the wind. “I just…miss her is all.”
“She was a real bitch, you know that?”
“I guess.”
“Bitches don’t deserve to have boyfriends like us. Bitches deserve a good one night stand and that’s it!” Joey opens another beer, scrunching his face.
“And how long have you been single again?” Gabriel raises a brow at his free-living best friend.
“Three years. Never been better.”
“Let’s pre-game it, what do you say? We can go to Brickyard Tavern and keep it casual, you know? Play some pool; get a couple girls some drinks. It’ll be a blast.” Joey downs his beer, still eyeing Gabriel’s contemplation.
“I don’t know.”
“Here.” He tosses Gabriel a beer, barely catching it.
“Why do I need to do this? I have to study for my calculus final after organic chemistry. I need rest more than anything.” He turns the other way in disgust with the beer. It was never his drinking preference to begin with. Beer tasted bitter to him and unsettling in the stomach.
“Don’t be a do-gooder, be a bad-doer,” Joey pats him on the back.
“You’re such a horrible influence.”
“And that’s why we’re best friends.” Joey twists his waist for another stretch. His Levi skinny jeans are so low-cut and sweater so short, the Guns N Roses tattoo above his pelvis begins to show. His Led Zeppelin tattoo is proudly showing off the newest muscle edition on his arms.
“True that,” Gabriel admits as they both tap beer bottles and chug away.
“Although, we’re gonna have to do something about your clothes.” Joey chuckles as he heads to the bathroom.
“What about them?” Gabriel looks down at his black hoodie and blue baggy jeans.
“We just need to get you out of them, pronto,” Joey calls out as he takes a piss with the door wide open.
Gabriel heads into his bedroom, digging into the drawers that only display more of what he is wearing. He hasn’t gone shopping in over a year and most of his clothes consist of Goodwill or Ross.
“Don’t you have any more clothes?” Joey zips up his jeans, flushing the toilet behind him. He’s already raiding Gabriel’s drawers fast and in a thrashing manner.
“Thanks for contributing to my apartment’s growing mess.”
“Where the hell are your skinny jeans? Don’t you have any? Chicks dig that.” His eyebrows go up and down, nodding his head in assurance.
“I’m not cut out for that style. No way in hell.”
“You don’t have to be. Where do you carry your black leather jackets? We’ll need that over a white tank to go with some skinny jeans.”
“I don’t have that either. You do know leather jackets cost hundreds of bucks, right?” Gabriel has his mind on future college debt and landing a decent job. A leather jacket is the last thing on his mind right now.
“So?” Joey’s blue eyes light up. “Wait, what about Halloween last year when me and you dressed as girls?” He starts to raid Gabriel’s closet more vigorously.
“I’m not sure, I-”
“Here are these bad boys!” he exclaims, throwing the dark, blue-jeaned bitch-pants at him.
“I am not wearing those.”
“Yes, you are.” He throws a plain white tank at him and starts to dig through Gabriel’s coat closet next. “You have to wear a sick jacket. It’ll make chicks think we’re rich. Since you can’t afford a leather jacket and all, we’ll have to scrounge something up and wing it.”
“They’ll think we’re trying too hard. Since when have you been so into fashion?” Gabriel asks. Joey probably just wanted to boost his best friend’s chances of scoring tonight. Gabriel wasn’t opposed to it, just flustered by everything that had happened to him.
“Don’t you have anything else besides freaking sweaters and hoodies?!”
“The only thing I can think of is when I dressed up as the Joker for Halloween. That disgusting purple jacket.” Gabriel’s face sours up as the flashback of him and Allie dressed as the Joker and Harley Quinn a few years back replays in his mind. At this point in time, he wouldn’t mind if the Joker costume disappeared forever.
“Where is it?” Joey practically yells. “Bring it out!”
“How would I know?” Gabriel shrugs. “As you can see, I haven’t been that clean lately.”
“Yeah, no shit you aren’t cleaning around here. I think I saw a spider crawl out of a cup earlier. Should I bring Juanita in here to help out?” Joey laughs. Juanita was his parent’s highly paid maid of twenty years.
“No, I don’t need her.”
“You know she’ll do anything for me, right?”
“Yes I know, but I don’t want her to clean this dump. I’ll do it myself.” Gabriel is growing stressed as he looks for the stupid purple jacket.
“Okay, housewife, okay.”
“I can’t find it. I will wear this tank and skinny jeans and we’ll call it good.” Gabriel decides to settle, even though he doesn’t give enough of a shit to look his best tonight in the first place.
“You’ll be screwed if you spill something on that tank though. Why else would we wear plain white tanks under zip over jackets? For back up! You’ve seen me drink my face off and puke on all my shirts before.”
“Please don’t remind me.” Gabriel throws off his hoodie and blue shirt so he can wear the stupid wife beater tank Joey insisted on wearing. He strips off his jeans and puts the skin-tight girl pants on, struggling a bit. He puts on his black converse next and black knitted beanie his sick mother made him last year.
“You know you’re having a good time when you puke.”
“Right.” Gabriel rolls his eyes.
“Lookie what I found, Snookums?” Joey holds up the dusty purple Joker jacket that was buried in Gabriel’s summer wear drawer.
“Kill me now.” He puts on the jacket in pain.
“You look good enough to dance with.” Joey starts to dance around while spraying Gabriel carelessly with cologne.
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Now to fix that messy bird’s nest of an excuse you call hair.”
It was official. Gabriel had come to conclusion that his best friend was either a professional at picking out clothes for his womanizing ways, or just maybe gay in denial. One or both of the two. He would always love his best friend though and knew that going out tonight would be for the better. A half hour later, after countless pre-gamed drinks, Gabriel and Joey decide to head to the bar now.
“Why is this walk going nowhere?” Gabriel moans.
“Because we’re already buzzed.” Joey pats him on the back as they power walk in their skinny jeans. They had overdone it before heading to the local bar, like usual. Four shots of Absolute Vodka pre-gamed for Gabriel plus two dreadful beers, and five shots of Gin for Joey, plus two delicious beers. Before lecturing Gabriel to come out, Joey had also drank an additional four beers.
Gabriel walks desperately ahead. “I have to go to the bathroom. Is anything even open?” He begins to panic as his words slur and talk silly.
“Dude, we’re almost there! Piss on the sidewalk!”
“In Beaverton where all the narky cops roam? I don’t think so. I need a bathroom now!”
“Hang in there, budddddy!” Joey calls out as Gabriel appears further away. This was not a joke at all.
“Oh my God, I gotta piss so bad. I want to go back to my apartment!” Gabriel suddenly reverses and zooms past Joey.
He begins to roar in laughter. “Dude, don’t be a wittle bitch; the bar is like ten-ish minutes away.” Joey takes a chug from his canteen bottle. It’s filled with Absolute Vodka and cranberry juice. Pre-gaming never ends for Joey, despite current wobbles and slurred words. He fixes his leather motorcycle jacket and adjusts the tightening pants near his crotch. “Was it my idea to wear skinny jeans tonight?” He calls out to the half-sprinting, half-stumbling Gabriel. He runs to catch up with his bladder-filled friend. “I forget.”
“Yeah, and I should kick your ass for that!” Gabriel adjusts his tight pants as he runs for dear life to his apartment.
I gotta piss, I gotta piss, I gotta piss…now!!! his body tells him.
No, you don’t. You can hold it, you can make it. Don’t piss, don’t piss…you can make it, his mind fights back as his body runs toward the red light. One last cross and he’ll make it to the bathroom gracefully.
PISS MY BOY…PISS! LET IT ALL OUT, his body becomes vicious now, urging him to give in helplessly.
No, no, no. Five more minutes and you can make it, his mind is calm and assuring. Gabriel smiles as he has almost made it home.
Gabriel’s skinny jeans begin to seep in wet urine from the bum down to the legs as he runs across the last crosswalk toward his apartment. A large fifty-something man has stopped in his tracks while driving a big truck, barely seeing scrawny Gabriel run across the crosswalk. The man looks shocked at the sight of sudden liquid producing from Gabriel’s pants. His headlights were exposing the star of the show...Gabriel.
“Gabe? You ok?” Joey sees him stop in the middle of the crosswalk to look down at his pants. “Oh my Go-"
“Shut up!” Gabriel catches his breathe and suddenly sprints the rest of the way towards his apartment to quickly change his urinated pants. He could almost kill himself for pre-gaming in the first place. He was also a lightweight so four shots and some beers really got to him.
Gabriel slams the door and pisses some more in the toilet, even though his body pretty much let it all flow already. He quickly scrubs his legs and lower body with soap and sprays it down with hot shower water. He is not only disgusted with himself but also regretful for agreeing that “pre-game” was a good idea. What an easy way to have an accident.
“Prick,” Gabriel says to himself. He slips on some black semi-baggy jeans of his own taste and throws on a green and white striped sweater, nearly stumbling.
He hears Joey barge into the apartment, seconds later. “Dude,” he chokes out in laughter; laughter so loud, neighbors may hear it. “Did you seriously piss your pants in the middle of the street?!” Joey’s skinny jeans are looking tighter than before, probably from all the alcohol the two had consumed, it made his fit body look bloated.
“Shut up.”
“I know you’re a light weight dude, but come on. Peeing your pants is such a girl thing to do.” He can’t control to poke fun at Gabriel.
“Well it doesn’t help that I was wearing skin tight pants. It basically squeezed the piss outta me.” Gabriel throws on a black Pea Coat.
“Do not blame the skinny jeans for your accident.” Joey begins to laugh on the floor so hard that tears stream from his bloodshot eyes. “Oh man, the look on that driver’s face when you peed in the middle of the crosswalk was priceless!”
“Can I post a status about this on Facebook?”
“No. I’ll cut your throat if you do!” Gabriel snarls at his childish friend.
“Whoa! Calm down, Beast.”
“Let’s just get the damn night over with, now that I’ve pissed myself away.” His face is flushed and overwhelmed now. Finals were supposed to be studied thoroughly tonight.
“You crack me up. You da' man.”
“If pissing my pants makes me ‘da man’, then this world is seriously more messed up than I thought.”
Gabriel makes sure he has a cigarette for the second attempted walk to the bar. It’s only twenty minutes away but taking a wrong turn could really mess up plans again and having a cigarette seemed like the only sane thing to do.
“Let’s finally get some bitches tonight.”
“Lets.” Gabriel’s mind is in another world now, thinking of all the hot girls he could enter himself into tonight. Allie didn’t exist anymore. She was a rotting corpse for all he knew or cared about.
Gabriel locks the door and lights up his cigarette, inhaling deeply before they head out into the darkness. All of a sudden, Joey barfs on Gabriel’s front door step and surrounding ground. Some coughs spring up after but Joey decides to just walk down the stairs, acting as if nothing happened. He slips on some of his own vomit though, taking a smooth invitation down the two-flight stair case.
“Yeowwwwwwwww!” he wails so loud, a few residents open up their doors to see the commotion. He glances at his bleeding leg and arm covered in puke and produces more vomit from his body. He lays there helplessly at the bottom of the staircase with a twisted leg and arm. Part of a bone is stuck out on his right arm. Gabriel immediately hurdles himself toward the stairs, stumbling.
“Joey!” He trips over a stair and topples on Joey.
Laying there together, looking at one another with matching bloodshot eyes and puke stains, they begin to wonder if this is how their life would end up if they continued this years down the road. If no changes were made and this routine would be a never ending thing...what would the outcome be? They both close their eyes together as the sounds of feet scramble around them.
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Published on March 24, 2015 17:41 • 37 views

February 16, 2015

Book 1 of the trilogy, Pretty Unlikely is available to order online :) please support me and read/review it. Thank you so much :)

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Published on February 16, 2015 08:19 • 34 views

December 31, 2014

I just wanted to take a moment to self reflect on all the things I've experienced and all the people I've met and hung out with. This year was tough for me, going through some life-changing experiences, but I look forward to the new year for myself, my friends, my family, and anyone else. I hope it treats everyone well. I plan to eat all organic, no GMO food, no processed food, work out like crazy, meet new people, make new friends, refrain from online dating (for 6 months) haha, and don't be afraid to try new things.
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Published on December 31, 2014 23:21 • 38 views

August 6, 2014

Tonight, Pretty Unlikely: Bloody Extended Edition will be complete, remastered, and available for my fans to read. I can't believe I wrote a book where I can actually escape my reality. Words cannot describe how deeply I feel about the characters I've created. Each one is held dearly to my heart and without them, I don't know if I would be completely sane. After molding them into who they are, whether it's from alcohol down my throat, tears producing from a bad day, or getting a strike of motivation, they've been there for me when no one else was. When I want out of my reality, I can get lost in Anna's crazy world of mishaps, Shirley's mommy drama, Tanner's bad boy ways, Bobby's restraining past, or Isaiah's unfortunate fate. I love my characters so much. Together, we will make this trilogy worth while.
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Published on August 06, 2014 15:43 • 42 views • Tags: anna, author, awesome, bobby, book, emily, emily-hodson, finished, hodson, indie, isaiah, pretty-unlikely, shirley, tanner, trilogy, writer, young-author

July 24, 2014

Hello all,
It's yours truly, here for a little blog update. :)
Apologies for my second book's delay, but my life has literally been a hectic non-stop rollercoaster of a ride. I have been working two jobs, three including writing, going to the gym like crazy, and prepping for school again. End of September, I've decided to push my fears away and go back to school. I've decided to go all the way. I'm going to get my Master's Degree in Creative Writing to become a better-crafted author, to teach high school and/or college english and writing classes, AND just for the sake of completing something I actually wanna do. I am very proud of this decision and I cannot wait to inspire others and help my future students out. In regards to my Pretty Unlikely Trilogy, the first one, well, the special edition first one, is about forty pages from being complete with the editing and the second book is about 75 pages done from the edits. I apologize with the delays but I've had a huge plateful with juggling jobs, finances, keeping a roof under my head, and getting my life together. I hope you all are ready for a treat, as my revised edition of the first book will be released in a few weeks and you ALL get a free PDF copy in exchange for a review. I've spent another good year working on the edits, as the last batch of reviews really helped me out. I can't afford an editor, however, I have been able to get a few friends with degrees take a look at it in addition to my own eyes. :) You have no idea how much writing means to me and the feedback I receive, whether it's good or bad. I've been writing since the age of 5, when I was in the back of the rental car, complaining about how boring the drive was to Cedar Point, this amusement park in Ohio. If my mother hadn't given me a piece of paper and pen, telling me to write, I don't know if I would have gotten into the groove so early with the art of writing.

It's what I want to do, feel, and breathe. Everything about writing is beautiful to me. The poetic tint to it, the make-believe characters who come to life with each page turned, the magical layout of the author's own fantasy from their dreams and imaginative thoughts...everything about writing inspires me to do well in this craft. I hope you all follow me in my journey and support authors like me who are indie and unrecognized. I support locals and indies and so should you ;)

If you would like to follow me on Twitter, my username is @Effies_World

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/PrettyUnlike...

I recently got interview by a blogger about my books so here are the links to that in chronological order :)

PART 1: INTERVIEWING EMILY HODSON, BEER AND EROTICA https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FuRqr...



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July 17, 2014

Come take a crazy ride down to the Buckeye state, where you will find a headstrong teenage girl named Anna, encounter a journey full of supernatural and crazy situations. Ripped away from her small hometown, Anna is forced to face and reveal happenings around every corner when she moves to Cleveland. Whether it's dealing with her young and crazy mother or encountering things making hostile noises in her bedroom. This haunting tale shows Anna that human society is more to hate than the supernatural and she may or may not have a dark hidden secret...or two. In a world where vampires and werewolves do not exist for once, join Anna on her whimsical adventure. An adventure where she'll release the judged and tormented supernatural, while head-butting with the shallow society we live in today...cops in particular. If you love stories that teach valuable lessons about diversity and accepting those who are different than others, you'll be in for a treat.
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Published on July 17, 2014 14:08 • 32 views • Tags: author, fantasy, fiction, indie, new, pretty-unlikely, sci-fi, self-published, sneak-peak, synopsis, writer

June 21, 2014



Room 111

The floor seemed to show a sense of mockery to Harold. The blood red color practically came to life the more he stared at it. It was like looking into a whirlpool of gore, tightening around his ankles, ready to pull him into the underworld. The red carpet was no longer a red carpet in Harold's eyes. Harold saw blood and Harold liked that. It helped him feel more at ease in the bedroom; the bedroom that would soon become a crime scene. The bedding smelled of a flower aroma and the maid had fluffed up the pillows extra this morning. Harold wasn't planning on sleeping tonight though. There were different matters he had ideas for. The Holy Bible was slightly outside of its drawer, old and rusted. This book had everything Harold did not want to listen to right now. A small sliver of the sunlight from the drapes peeked down half his face. It was exceptionally heated today, making Harold slowly take his tie off.
The lamp was on but Harold no longer liked it shining beside him. He turned if off abruptly and paced around the room. The walkway towards the luxurious and chocolate mint-filled bathroom took near forever to walk into. Harold was hungry and dry in the throat so he decided to eat the complimentary candy. The aftertaste of the mint burned his mouth. Chocolate made him sick and he wasn’t supposed to eat it. The Diamond-shaped mirror did his face no justice either. It wouldn't matter the shape though. His bloodshot eyes were watery and rusted. The bathtub was about the size of a Jacuzzi. Harold could possibly get drunk tonight and have some girls over. He could even invite some coworkers for a few beers. The hotel had everything he could ever want. The couch was even comfy and turned into another bed.
Harold could have his co- workers crash with him here tonight for company and comfort. That's what should have happened, but it didn't. Harold had messed up and he had messed up big time. The sale he planned to close was non-existent now and there was nothing he could do about it. The only thing left to do was take care of the problem in a more…realistic sort of way. For ten years, he had been taking orders from the boss, along with hesitantly following scripted lines. For ten years, Harold had been depressed and mentally not there. No one knew of his feelings towards work and life…but they'd know tonight.
No more, he thought, staring into his reflection.
"NO MORE!" he punched his fist dab in the middle, shattering the mirror into tiny and painful pieces. The bones on his knuckles were covered in blood and glass. Harold did not know his own strength.
The shower curtains were covered with daisy printed designs on the edges. He tore the whole thing down instantly to wipe off his nonstop bloody hands. The maid would have to clean up the mess in the morning, as her job entitled her to. Harold headed back to the bedroom and looked inside the tiny closet. It held no more than a few of his business coats on the rack. His hands ran across it, making sure it was sturdy. It stood over a foot taller than his height and the metal was unbreakable. Harold liked that. He held his tie and measured it around his thick and veined-up neck. It was tight around him now and a perfect fit for his intentions.
No one would care if he disappeared from this world anyways. Why would it matter? His boss would be thrilled to hire a better replacement. His ex-girlfriend wouldn't have to deal with obsessive and stalking calls every night. And his parents? They wouldn't even notice. Since he left the house, all they knew was that he was being a successful and bright salesman. The joke would be on everybody else. Harold smirked to himself, staring at the cash he had stolen from his boss's safe. No one would ever know how Harold pulled it off the day he discovered the combination. That precious money would be gone. All $1,576,394 of it. Money was ugly to Harold, which was why he brought a match with him that night at the hotel. The peach-colored walls would soon melt around the room and the queen-sized bed would dissolve with its swan-made feathers scattering all over the place. Harold couldn't wait until tomorrow morning. He couldn't wait to die, knowing his boss would react horrifically, going from filthy rich, to dirt poor. He deserved it. It was the least Harold could do before he left this world.
He gulped as he tightened the tie more. The glazed wooden chair by the desk was holding him steadily but not safely in the closet. The fire was started, growing rapidly. All of the cash was dissolving and the people in this hotel would soon embrace the terrible burden Harold had brought with him. He smiled as he knotted the tie to the rack firmly. One more step and his plan would be complete. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, imagining what the afterlife would be like. No more money, no more horrible people, and no more evil. Harold was almost set free. He opened his eyes; ready to feel released and escaped. A sudden knock on the door startled him before the attempt. His eyes widened as the fire grew bigger. The fire detector hadn't sensed it yet but the knock grew louder.
"Harold?" The gruff voice demanded. "Please open up the door."
The knob started to get jiggled and tampered with.
There is no way he can get in, Harold thought.
A card slid in the door. A beep came after and the swipe was incorrect. "Glad the hotel gave me a second card. I told them I was your boss and needed to talk to you." The hoarse familiar chuckle gave Harold goosebumps instantly.
"That's...great," he piped out. His sweat dripped down his head. The fire was spreading a little past him inside the little closet. The boss swiped again, Harold standing still like a statue. As the door opened, he finally let himself off the chair.
"You'll never believe it, Harold," his boss said halfway through the door. "The Jamieson family changed their minds about the deal. You get a bonus! You did it!"
He sniffed the air and watched in horror as his cash dissolved in front of him. Not once did he notice Harold hanging inside the half-opened closet. It was obvious to see but he never really cared about Harold dying, he only cared about his money disappearing.

Room 112, around the same time

The bed was displayed in layers of love and comfort. Fluff and romance was all it wanted to provide; nothing more, nothing less. The couch was wool and brown, giving the nostalgia of a cabin in the woods feeling. It unfolded for extra bedding as well. The beautiful red carpet supported the couch and bed with nothing but a spot of lint at the corner of the room.
In the bathroom, a beautiful Jacuzzi was sparkling from top to bottom. Rose pedals were displayed on the top, along with Hershey chocolate kisses. Inside the small closet, placed ever so carefully inside a business suit, was a gift for the lady; a very special, life-changing gift. Nothing could go wrong tonight. Everything was in place and ready for her to see. The T.V. had a music channel on. Usher’s “Climax” song played on repeat lightly in the background. On the end table was champagne and some rum. The sunlight gave a perfect hint of light on the bed. The sun was doing its job right and knew to behave this evening. A candle was placed on the desk with a scrap book alongside. All their memories were in it and all their precious times were documented. This was going to be the night of their lives. Jase and Annabelle.
They were out to dinner at the moment and Jase had hired the maids to set up everything. It was going to be the surprise and night of a lifetime for his special girl. Everything was going to be perfect and nothing wrong was going to happen. Annabelle would say yes to the proposal and make mad love to him that night. Jacuzzi, massages, dancing, movies, and swimming in the pool downstairs would take place. It was only eight o’clock the night they were out. The wonderful night they were out. Two amazing years together, Jase looked forward to the hotel night and Annabelle didn’t have a clue what was going to happen. She didn’t even know about the hotel plan.
As the two maids finished up the decorating, one whispered to the other, snickering. She stole a kiss from the Jacuzzi, hearing the chocolate juice splash inside her mouth. The other maid raided the business coat for some type of money. Minimum wage was starving her kids to the bone. A sharp diamond- studded ring appeared in front of her hungry eyes. She tucked it into her pocket and told her coworker she had to leave. There would be riches and food on the table tonight and the lady would finally be able to get on her feet. Her life was about to finally start. As the thief maid opened the door, the fire made its way to the room within seconds, trapping them both inside. There was no way to escape, except jumping off the five-story balcony.

Room 116, around the same time

Little Timmy played on the red carpet with his dinosaurs. The floor was his land for them and that was how he wanted to imagine it as. It was the only way to drown out his parents’ constant yelling. Little Timmy enjoyed the scenery though. The night had a full moon and he wished he could touch it. Flying to it would be fun at a time like this.
“Stan, don’t talk about this right now. Timmy is here!” Mother pleaded with her strong and powerful husband. He could have her dead within seconds if he really wanted to make it happen. She was just so tiny and easy to break.
“Hil, I told you those bills were supposed to be paid last week, you careless bitch. Now we’re on a trip and fucked in debt!” He threw her onto the cushioned bed and smacked her across the face.
Little Timmy continued to ignore it. He took his Dinosaurs into the bathtub, drowning out his mother’s screams. Father told him that he and mother liked to rough house and play around a lot. Little Timmy understood and knew when the cue to leave was. Mother never had the guts to tell him the truth and she never would. The bruises on her face were just “dirt” to her. Dirt didn’t hurt and Timmy knew that too.
“Please, can we do this somewhere else? Timmy needs to get fed!” she wailed as she got pinned down. He cupped her mouth as she mumbled through it. Timmy’s eyes began to watch through the crack, like he always did. There was no way to ignore it forever. Keeping distance was his safest bet though. He wasn’t in a particular mood to get another beating from father.
“Oh but honey, you and I both know you deserve to get punished.” Stan loosened his belt and flipped her over. The sound of the belt bruising her was just the sound of cowboys hustling bulls to little Timmy. Father said that many women liked getting spankings. Timmy closed the bathroom door after he peered through the crack to watch.
As his mother wailed, little Timmy looked into the mirror to blink a few times. The mirror was diamond-shaped and bold, showing his innocent face. The face had lies filled from one ear to the other. Timmy knew already, he just decided to play along with his messed up parents. If his mother’s bruises were just “dirt,” then they were just dirt. If women liked to be spanked, then that was fine with Timmy. If rough play meant beating the shit out of someone, so be it. Little Timmy was only five and he knew how grown-ups worked.
A large spider crawled by the shiny sink. It looked like Arachnid, it was so big.
“Hello there.” Little Timmy gently picked it up. “Would you like to escape from here?”
The spider gazed at him with those red and unintentional frightening eyes. It crawled out of his hand and into the small window above the mirror. Little Timmy followed into the cold brutal night. The wind smashed his face with dust and debris. A few steps after, a gun shot came from little Timmy’s hotel room. He kept walking. It was time to run away, especially when he saw his father try to crawl out of the window with a gun. He was too big though. Timmy turned around and saw the fire smother his stuck father. He watched briefly as his father wailed in pain. There was no way he could escape from the window. Timmy saw other rooms of the hotel begin to set fire. He continued to run with the spider on his shoulder. He was hungry and there was a convenient store just minutes away he could rob.
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Published on June 21, 2014 14:51 • 26 views • Tags: author, dark, edits, goodreads-author, indie, mystery, novel, published, self-published, short-story, thriller, writing, writing-class