J.M. Farthing's Blog, page 2

This, is magical.SHIT WRITERS SAYMaybe I could win over...

This, is magical.

SHIT WRITERS SAY

Maybe I could win over this class with a strenuously overwritten, idiotically sentimentally, painfully hyper-emotional piece about trying to suck my own dick… and dying.

— Patrick

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jmfarthing:This, is magical.Originally posted on SHIT WR...

jmfarthing:

This, is magical.

Originally posted on SHIT WRITERS SAY:

Maybe I could win over this class with a strenuously overwritten, idiotically sentimentally, painfully hyper-emotional piece about trying to suck my own dick… and dying.

– Patrick

View original

Reblogged from SHIT WRITERS SAY:Maybe I could win over ...

Reblogged from SHIT WRITERS SAY:

Maybe I could win over this class with a strenuously overwritten, idiotically sentimentally, painfully hyper-emotional piece about trying to suck my own dick... and dying.

-- Patrick

This, is magical.

Awakening Spring Chapter 1

I’m posting this here for those who would like to see how the second novel in the Blood Season Series is shaping up. Comments and Critiques appreciated. 

(please ignore comments attached.) Plus, if you haven’t read the first, Embracing Winter, then there will be SPOILERS!!

Chapter One

 

     “Are you trying to kill us?”

     My midnight black ‘70 Hemi ‘Cuda growled in response as I passed a piece of crap electric Prius that I believed could only reach the speed limit if someone rubbed the thing back and forth on the carpet a couple of times. The freeway hummed with other speed minding cars that became nothing more than ribbons of red and white lights in my wake.

“We’re late Gabriel. You know how she gets.” I maneuvered around a semi hauling huge concrete tubes, barely missing its bumper as my steel baby charged into the fast lane with the ease of 425-frothing at the mouth-horse power under its hood. I could actually hear Gabe’s fingers gripping around the passenger door’s handle, pop one by one. Even his youthful face had aged with his unfounded fear of my driving. I shook my head. It was as if the fact that neither of us had been mortal for over a hundred years held any weight in his chicken shit head.

It was too bad his fear didn’t cripple his ability to nag. “Just—take it easy, I would like to show up in one piece.”

“And I would like to know how in the hell you ever got turned.”

“Shut up Spring, I don’t want to get into it with you again—will you watch the damn road?”

With the grace of a practiced dancer, I passed a pick-up that had made the poor choice in getting into my lane. “That’s because it still surprises you that you were even changed.” I dodged another vehicle that was going a speed that should be punishable by public flogging.

My companion gasped. Gasped. Like a proper southern woman exposed to an all-male strip review. “Let’s just agree not to speak until we get there okay?” Gabe forced through a jaw clenched so tight, I wondered if he was going to bust a molar.

“Whatever will get you through it, buddy.” This kind of exchange wasn’t anything new between us. The constant bickering of two people being stuck together for way to long, had those who didn’t have a brain cell left in their gray matter always believing we were married. If we were asked, I would break down into uncontrollable laughter and Gabe would look like he had swallowed a gallon of old motor oil. Truth was though, I think the little vamp had developed some sort of crush on me in the eighties and has yet to let those feelings go[W1] .

I volleyed over to the exit for Imperial Avenue, and blasted through the yellow light just as my cell phone came alive with the caw of a raven. A new message. Gabriel groaned and gripped the door harder as I took my eyes off the road to read the text. I wished he would relax, I had learned the fine art that was driving through traffic-heavy downtown roads while texting.

“Man, we are so going to hear it when we get there.” I winced at the “WTF? Where are you?” glaring at me from my cell screen. I flashed it to show my safety monitor, but he only managed to turn a sickly shade of green in response. “We’re here,” I slapped my motion sick companion on the back as I slowed to a stop in front of our home. “You can pry your fingers out of my dash board now. I don’t want to replace it again.”

Gabriel, eye’s alight that we had finally stopped moving, looked ready to kiss the unmoving ground at his feet when he got out of the car. “Well if you drove like a normal person…”

“I can’t even tell you the last time I was a normal person.” I motioned for him to hurry as I raced up the stairs of our nineteenth-century Queen Anne-style home. Left behind by a musician, author, and spiritualist founder, Villa Montezuma couldn’t be more perfect a place for our worldly employer to reside. Chimneys battled for space with rounded turrets that rose along the rooftop into the night sky, as though they wished to touch the stars above with their terra cotta hands. The deep red walls were offset by faded green accents along the towers and trim, and every window was detailed with such richly colored stained glass even a Catholic church proud. It was a bit much in my opinion, gorgeous though the house was. Do you know how hard it is to keep the neighborhood kids from poking around here, drunk on some dare to see if the house was as haunted as their late night slumber party imaginations had them believe? And all the effort it took to keep what the house really enclosed a secret to all whose curiosity got the better of them? Trust me, it’s no walk in the park. More like a walk through Central Park with all your money strapped to your shirt and a big sign that said “tourist, please mug.”[W2] 

I glanced quickly over the perimeter and the driveway. An unfamiliar black Toyota Corolla was parked behind the boss’s late 1950’s Ford. I forced the tension out of my shoulders. We had guests, it seemed, and we were late. Big time no-no. We blasted into the foyer expecting to see our boss, hands on her hips, ready to tear us a new one, but a heavy silence greeted us instead. No one stood warming themselves by the handmade tile fireplaces; no sounds reverberated off the silver and gold Lincrusta Walton ceilings, not even a click of a heel against the dark hardwood floors.

“Where is everybody?” Gabriel asked. His hands raked through his hair as he tried to pull the blond locks back into a neat ponytail.

I pointed up the darkened stairway. “My guess.”

Gabriel just nodded and started to wipe at some dirt that had collected on his hoodie, frightened that if he had just one hair out of place or one speck of lint, the boss would send him packing.

How the hell did he ever get changed? “Come one Gabriella, save the primpin’ for the mirror.”

We ascended the stairs in silence as I wondered what the night had in store for us. I knew something huge was about to happen. The boss hadn’t been this fired up for more than forty years, not since she lost half of her coterie when the Vietnam War birthed a generation of peace-loving grunge-dwellers with their “killing is evil” propaganda. I had to be the one to deliver the news that fifteen of our own had stripped naked, grasped hands, and walked out onto the shores of Blacks Beach just as the sun crested the horizon. She still hasn’t gotten over that one. Woe to anyone what crosses her path wearing a tie-dye shirt.

We reached the office door, me itching with curiosity, while Gabe squared his shoulders and steadied his nerves by shaking his hands out by his hips. I shook my head and went to knock on the door but was stopped by the sound of the boss’s voice from inside.

“Spring. Gabriel, come in.”

“Cloud your thoughts Gabe.” I said over my shoulder. “We have no idea who these people are and what they want. Besides, we don’t want them to know that you have a hard on for the boss. It’s not very professional.”

“Jesus Spring,” Gabe hissed. “Maybe you should watch what you’re thinking, we wouldn’t want our guests to find out how foul you are.”

“Sorry muchacho-but I have a charm and wit no one can resist. You, on the other hand—“

“You will both get in here now!” We both jumped as the boss’s voice now thundered from inside.

“See what you did?” I punched him in the shoulder and opened the door as my neurotic partner began damning my name to every God in the known universe.

Several sets of eyes fell upon us as we crossed the threshold. One set—large, bright blue and shooting daggers—belonged to Quinn, our boss. Gabe swallowed his rant so fast I almost burst into a fit of hysterics that would have surely guaranteed me a spot on Quinn’s shit list. Of which, after the delay of our entry, I was sure we were already on.

She stood behind a humble mahogany desk with both tattooed encased arms crossed her chest. I had seen this stance from her countless times—this woman probably pasted a picture of me to her dart board every night—but the laugh I held disappeared when I noticed her new haircut. A long strip of deep purple ran down the center of her head and down her back; the sides had been completely shaved to the scalp. A damn Mohawk… Someone in the coterie had died, or was about to. (The fiasco during the sixties had Quinn running around completely bald for almost ten years.)

“Now that you have collected yourself—“ She glared at Gabriel. “We can move on to why I called you both here in such haste.”

Gabe shifted his weight beside me, no doubt ready to cry for being reprimanded. I had to remember to give him a proper ass-kicking when this meeting was over.

“First, introductions.” She motioned to the two others [W3] in the office. “Alex, this is Spring, my second, and the one who has just shown us his colorful language,” she motioned to Gabe, “Gabriel, her partner.”

I turned to the vampire who stood near the desk. Her dark clothes made her appear as though she were nothing but a shadow-a human shape carved out from the towering bookcases behind her. A pale hand pulled midnight hair away from her face as she turned to Gabe and me. Normally I would jump at the chance to make fun of blood drinkers who took this stereotyped look seriously, but for some reason, I felt she was meant to look this way, like she was birthed from the night itself. The power this vampire possessed, it practically reached out into the room looking for something to strangle, and the last thing I wanted was to piss off a vampire that was a lot older me.

“Alex,” I said, nodding slightly, and in what I hoped showed the proper protocol.

“A pleasure,” Gabriel brown-nosed behind me.

Alex offered us a small smile, but I could see the battle between anger and sadness she was trying to hide behind her dark eyes as she took us in. Something bad had happened—something that could bring a more experienced vampire to the verge of tears in front of total strangers.

Quinn motioned to the other woman who sat quietly in the leather chair next to where Alex stood. “Her companion, Jenna.”

If Alex was darkness, then Jenna was the light. Dressed in tight black leggings and an obnoxiously bright yellow complicated top, Jenna seemed better prepared to walk off a Paris runway than down an alley to quench the thirst of the undead. She couldn’t have been immortal for very long. Six or seven months tops. Like an eager puppy, she jumped up to greet us and before I could reach up my hands to stop it, she had pulled me into a tight hug. I stiffened, unsure of how to react. The last time someone had their arms around me, they lost three fingers. Gabriel earned another ass kicking when I heard him chuckle under his breath.

“It’s so nice to meet you both.” Jenna released me then set her sights on Gabe, who didn’t seem to mind having the woman drape herself around him. Ugh. If he’d had blood pumping through his veins, I swear his whole body would have been blushing when she pulled away from him.

“Thank you both for helping us,” Jenna said, returning to her seat next to the stone-silent Alex. “I can’t begin to tell you how much we appreciate this.”

My eyebrow twitched. I could already feel the lines between my brow creasing. “Helping you?” I’d never heard word one about agreeing to help anyone.

Quinn moved out from behind the desk. “Spring, you will remember Alex and Jenna are guests.”

“Please understand, though Spring and Gabriel will be assisting you in your…situation, I have yet to explain to them the details. If I may ask you to please excuse us, I will get them up to speed. As we are all aware of the time constraint we are under, I wish to set the ball in motion as they say.”

Alex nodded. “Yes, Quinn, we understand. Again, I thank you for opening your home to us. Jenna and I will be in the spare room…I’m sure our other companion is wondering where we’ve run off too.”

Quinn gave a slight bow. “Of course, I expect you would want to see to your friend.”

This had seemed the prim and proper protocol required from any vampire in this coterie to behave, but none of what Quinn had said came off as genuine concern. She and Alex stood there squared off, as though waiting for the other to make a move, when Alex finally smiled the same I’m-not-really-happy-smile, gathered up Jenna, and exited the office.

When the door shut behind them, I let loose with all my questions.

“What the hell is all this about? What are me and Gabe helping these two with? And what was that whole thing between you and Alex?”

Those big blues lit up. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to!” Quinn snapped. All her leader formalities dropped the minute the coterie members let the door click shut behind them. She was back to being the vampire who once ran a brothel for the rich when Rome had been the big dog on the mountain.

“Yeah, and I wondered where the real Quinn wandered off to…”

“Spring, I don’t need your shit tonight.” Her hands tugged at what was left of her hair. “You know that we expect Christian—“

“But he isn’t due until next week—“

“He will arrive here tonight.”

Gabriel let out a sound between a yelp and a cry. I almost joined in.

“W-what?”

Quinn flashed behind the desk and pulled out a sheet of paper with “From the desk of Christian Bolivar” in bold intricate lettering like it was from a damn CEO of a fortune five hundred company and not from the leader of everything that is damned. She slapped it on the desktop. Both Gabe and I leaned in, and after a few lines, I felt my knees go weak. “This is some sort of joke right?”

Quinn shook her head. “I really fucking wish it was.”

“You’re telling me that Christian’s great, great, great, shit—great times ten grandson is in the damn guest room?”

Quinn’s faced pinched, the action always more menacing to see on a features that once was casted onto small coins. She cracked her knuckles, eyeballing the walls for where she could throw her fist. “Not only is he in the guest room, he’s in mortuus somnus and not doing well at all. I’ve never seen anything like it in my time. If he dies before Christian gets here—“

“We’re fucked,” I added for her.

Quinn rubbed at the brown and black striped Asps inked into her arm. They wound around her forearms and biceps, starting at her wrists and ending with the snakes’ heads poised to bite into the top of her breasts. An homage, She’d said, to Cleopatra. She was a serious bitch, but I’ve never had more respect for another woman. When one looked closer, each black stripes laddering the snakes carried the names of all the fallen vampires under her charge written in Latin, Quinn’s native tongue.

For this coterie’s sake, I hoped that our mysterious guest wouldn’t be listed among them.

Gabriel moved to Quinn’s side. “When are you expecting him?”

“His Jet will land in two hours. That gives me just enough time to get the two of you, and our guests, prepared.”

You know that feeling you get when someone is going to ask you to do something you really don’t want to do, but you have to say yes because of who is doing the asking? You know, that feeling like you just swallowed about a hundred needles and you head is shouting “NO”, but your mouth vomits out a yes? By the look on Gabe’s face, you’d think he had just swallowed thousands.

“What I will need from the two of you is total cooperation. What will happen in this house tonight is something the two of you have yet to witness. I have only seen it performed twice, and both ended poorly. I can only hope that with Christian’s help, that tonight will be the exception.”

I stood a bit taller. This was where I could prove that I was the right choice for Quinn’s second, despite the backlash she received for my youth at my induction. (I had thought being 143 counted for something).

Even Gabe turned back to his normal color, ready to jump hoops. “Tell us what you need, and we will make sure it’s handled.”

“That is what I needed to hear from you. Now, have you fed tonight Spring?”

“I have met with my donors, yes.”

“Did you take from them well?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer her. I had taken what I needed, no more. If I pushed my donors too far, they could get sick or die. Since finding humans who were strong enough physically, mentally, be discreet, and willing to give up their blood were extremely hard to come by.

“I have fed responsibly,” I offered.

“I hope it was enough,” she replied. “It will have to be enough.”

Confused, I glanced at Gabe. He shrugged and shook his clueless blond head. Quinn didn’t elaborate.

“Spring, when Christian arrives, we all need to be on proper coterie behavior—“

“Well Gabe—looks like your subservient perfect house pet ways are going to pay off. I suppose we should have you tied out back just in case you get too excited and accidently piddle on the carpet.”

“If that is your worry, then Quinn should have you caged, just in case you get too excited and accidently run a knife over our guests’ throats.”

“Oooo touché Gabriella.”

“Enough!” Quinn slammed her fist onto the desk’s surface causing a small photo frame to slip off and fall onto the floor. When she saw our attention back to where it needed to be, she picked up Christian’s letter and began to read. “Proper etiquette will be expected. Spring, you could learn a few things from Gabriel in that department.”

I could feel his smug little smile like the singe of a hot poker before the sneer even hit his justified face. Quinn moved on, unfazed by my twitching hand wanting to smack the look off my friend. “Gabriel, you will see to Christian when he arrives. If he should want for anything, ego mos interficio vos myself. Understand?”

The pride wafting off Gabe was palpable as he answered with a “yes” that was ten octaves higher than necessary.

“Now Spring, you will be needed in the guest room tonight—I will take you there shortly. When Christian arrives, you will take your orders from him. Est ut videlicet?”

“Perficio.”

“Good. Gabriel, see that the suite is ready to receive Mr. Bolivar.”

Gabe had never moved faster. He flashed out of the room, his sudden departure billowed out the curtains around the windows.

“So I imagine we’re off to meet Sleeping Beauty then?” I asked.

Quinn’s eyes narrowed to two small slits and I knew I was walking on ice as thing as my grandfather’s hairline. “What I meant to say, is it time that we meet our guests and prepare them for the arrival of our most esteemed leader?”

Quinn sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You know better than anyone that I enjoy your candor and wit, but understand this, Christian will not be as understanding and welcoming of your more modern attitude. If he sees fit to cut you into halves, to seal you in a hole until you dry up, or end your life entirely just for one misplaced verb, he will do so. You need to understand the importance of the vampire coming to this home.” A slight smile played with the corner of her lips. “Of course, I do remember a time when he wasn’t always so serious.”

I snorted. “Oh man, I hope you never slept with him. Because, as I see it, that could cause more drama than anything I could do.”

Her hand was around my throat before I sensed her movement. I was slammed into the bookcase with a force that broke two ribs. The bones sought their severed halves like a thousand beetles slathered in Ghost Chili oil under my skin. They fused back together as books rained down around us.

“You will watch your mouth from here on out.” Quinn’s voice blazed into my ear while her body crushed against mine with the power of a two ton semi. “Do not test my patience tonight!”

I had pissed off my boss like this only once before, and that was when I was nothing but a naïve, revenge-ravaged bloodsucker who had wandered into her territory. My serial-killing had almost exposed the existence of vampires to the entire world. While pressed up against a slowly splintering bookshelf, I knew I had crossed that line again.

“I’m sorry Quinntarian.” I coughed. “P-please, I…respect your wishes…M-Mr. Bolivar…have no reason to reprimand me, or this c-coterie. Vos have meus vox.”

Quinn’s grip loosened.

 When she pulled my face to hers, I could see the ghost of darkness fade from her otherwise blue eyes. There had to be more to the situation than my shooting off at the mouth.

 “I’m sorry,” she said, taking her hand from me and staring at it like she was as surprised by her actions as I was. “Just, watch yourself. I wouldn’t want to lose you for something as stupid as your big mouth.”

I just nodded, afraid to say anything else that might send her into another attack.

The muscles in her jaw clenched and relaxed as her stare drifted from mine. She moved away from where I stayed pressed against the books and began picking up the casualties that littered the floor around us. I stooped down to help her, but she waved me away. “Just wait for me out in the hall.”

Gabe was waiting when I closed the office door. “Aww did you two have a fight?” He had changed clothes after he was done with his errand. His regular jeans and hoodie ensemble had been replaced by a pressed black pinstriped suit. His hair was now slicked back into a respectable knot at his neck and I smelled some god-awful mix of cologne and excitement.

“Aww is someone on the verge of being a complete and total dicksmack?”

The light behind those hazel eyes didn’t even flicker. “This is huge, Spring,” he said. “Bigger than me, this coterie—everything.”

I could only gape at my friend. A facial expression I don’t use often, the last time had been when I accidently came across a video on the Internet that I can never unsee.

Before I could even throw a witty response in his direction, he turned on one heel and headed down the hallway. Just as he neared the stairs, he stopped, his head cocked to one side and said, “I have traveled with you as your companion for many years Spring, and I’ve only once seen pride in your eyes for who you are.” I could see his body tense as he spoke his next words in a whisper. “And that was when your heart was filled with only death.”

His words settled heavy in my heart, each syllable like a sting from a wasp.

 “You know that isn’t true, you ass.” I covered the pain he caused easily—I’ve done it for years—but Gabriel didn’t answer me, he’d already disappeared down the stairs.

Well, that was all fine and good. I don’t know how many times I’d wished I could get rid of his sensible, impossibly good-natured, and downright boring ass for even five minutes. Now, thanks to Quinn and the arrival of Christian, it looked like I was getting that chance. I hadn’t forgotten about the ass-kicking that was coming his way and when it went down, I would remind him that words hurt.

The fucker.

But first, I had my own duties that needed looking after. I turned and headed toward that back of the house where the guest rooms were located—and some apparently very important guests.

 

Two short stories, Two different views.

The aging laminate crinkled beneath her wizened hands as she turned another page. Nestled behind the yellowing plastic were small square reminders of vacations and birthday parties. Evidence, she thought, of a life well spent.  She lingered over a photo of a small boy playing in the sand, his chubby little fingers digging the moat for what would be his greatest sand castle ever. “Little Jack.” A smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she turns another page. She traces another photo with the same hands that had nurtured, guided, and raised that same little boy into the man that stared back at her from the plastic housing, prideful in his graduation cap. Her cheeks burned as the smile, fully formed, spread across her face.

“Mother?”

The room became alive around her.  A flurry of laughter and voices murmured in a sort of controlled chaos that surrounded her as she clutched the photo album to her chest.

“Mother, its time.” Her son, Jack, held his arm out to her, his smile matching her own.  She stood, taking her sons arm as the invitation to his wedding slipped from her lap. She had forgotten to place it in the photo album where her memories are kept safe. She gazed up at her boy whose face had become blurry from her tears.

“I know ma,” Jack said, pulling her close. “I love you too.”  

 

 

Her hands felt brittle. Old. Like the yellowing laminate from the dusty old photo album she couldn’t ignore anymore. Whiskey coated her mouth and tongue in a bitter fuzz she hadn’t bothered with any attempt to remove. She had told herself to stay away, to not live in the past—to move on. But with each turn of a decaying page filled with memories of long ago, her heart would tighten in her chest until she was convinced it had turned to stone.

Her hands, arthritic and wrinkled beyond her years, traced the photograph of a young man whose smile held with it the promise of a bright future.

“Mary?” She doesn’t turn to the voice that sounds so much like him. She tunes out the din of voices that are gathered in her living room eating cake and poorly made casserole.  Instead, she turns another page even when her mind is telling her that they would be empty.  She reached over the couch to where the contents of her purse lay strewn across the cushions, and snatched up a small piece of paper that had begun to shrivel from the storm of tears from when she first read it.  Trembling, she placed her son’s funeral program into the empty page. 

Just a teeny, tiny, rant.

That’s it.

I’m finished.

You will no longer have power here. I’m sick of how you just creep in and make yourself at home. You force me to make food, even though I’m not hungry. You make me check my Facebook statuses every few minutes, even though I haven’t made a post in over a month. You crawl around, sneaky and cat-like whispering things like, “You have laundry to put away” and, “You’ve been neglecting your DVR recordings for like, TWO whole days.”

I’m sick of it. You’re nothing but a roommate who hasn’t showered nor paid rent in the entire time you’ve been around. So consider this your eviction notice.

Procrastination….we no longer are speaking. Kindly remove your lazy ass from my sight.

Thank you.

Gentelman Caller

Gentleman Caller

She’s sitting alone in an old worn out velvet chair that was as crimson as the gloss smeared across her lips. Tucked into the back patio of a sleezy bar, she fails to notice the small lamp on the table beside her flicking on and off. A cigarette, which had long ago burned out, is gripped between her first two fingers so tightly, he wondered if she feared to let it go. With her free hand, she twirls a lock of wheat colored hair lost in thoughts he could only imagine were dark and full of unanswered questions.

He had seen her here before. The last time, she had been pacing the small table yelling at someone on her cell phone. He had been so drawn to her, like a tether had been placed between his chest and anchored itself to the wild, fire lit beauty, who clearly knew every curse word ever written.  She had been so alive, so animated, that he was sure his own heart would burst from witnessing her drama unfold on that smoke choked, gum stained patio. But, he only watched as the vein in her forehead pulsed with each obscenity that she screeched into the phone, her voice crescendoing into uncontrollable sobbing. He didn’t move to where she slumped into the seat, staring wide-eyed at the blank screen of her cell, the other party having hung up at sometime during her tirade.

Still, he remained silent. He could only observe, like he was supposed to do. Never get involved, was his motto.  Besides, his work would come later, there was nothing he could do for her then.

The lamp beside her still form flicked off. Still, she took no notice.

A man walks past where she’s sitting, eyes still glazed and not focused on anything. He ponders for a moment, hovering near the empty seat next to her. The light flicks on again, he hesitates as though he could feel that something just wasn’t quite right, and then decides to move on.

She’s reliving that night. It’s written in the tight lines around her lips that can never take back the words they had spilled in anger.  It’s in the furrow in her brow as she puzzles out how it had ever gotten that far. It’s in her sad eyes that saw a relationship that has been changed forever. It’s in her shaking hands—actions that can’t be undone.

She laughs suddenly; the sickly orange glow of the lamp, flickers. He’s not going to be able to wait much longer. He hated starting too early, sometimes people just need a moment to reflect—to put things into perspective. Always patient, he watched as the laugh died as quickly as it had come on. She had moved her hand slowly up her breast, past her pronounced collarbone, and had come to rest on the ruined flesh that circled around her thin neck.

The lamp went out.

It was time.

He removed his hat, a long ago lesson he had learned was the polite thing to do when greeting a lady, and slowly walked to where she sat clawing at the corded, bruised wound. He cleared his throat, trying to get her attention, but she was beginning to fall into the panicking stage. He cleared his throat again, this time a bit louder.

Her head snaps up to him, and for a moment, he let himself get lost in the beauty of her face.

“I didn’t mean to do it.” Her voice is raw, scratchy, a condition caused by her own bad decision.

He stooped so that they met eye to eye. “They never really do.” He said, in what he hoped was an empathetic tone.

She reached for his coat, her small hands winding themselves in the lapels. “If I would have known.”

“One never does, until it’s too late.”

Desperate, she asks, “Can I do it over again?”

He shakes his head, relaxing the muscles in his face to the practiced expression of what he had learned was called “compassion.”

She let him go, dark eyes wide as she looks at her hands. “I can see through them,” she rasps.

He nods again, waiting for her to understand.

“Does that mean?”

“Yes.”

A small gasp escapes her glossed lips, and he wonders, for a brief moment, what it would have been like to have known her when she was alive and if he had ever been human. He never used to allow himself to fantasize about what the feel of a woman’s lips would feel against his own, and he shouldn’t start now.

Resolved to the fate she had brought upon herself, she whispered, “So what now?”

He stood, placing his hat upon his head and reached for those delicate hands. “You move on, and I am here to guide you.”

She slips on soft, slender hand into his waiting one and stands. The lamp’s yellow light burns bright as she moves away from it.

He suspects it won’t act up again.

 

New Short Story.

Hello my loves! Just a quick short story I’ve jotted down for your viewing pleasure. Feel free to comment and critique. (Sorry if the grammar is a mess.)

She’s sitting alone in an old worn out velvet chair that was as crimson as the gloss smeared across her lips. Tucked into the back patio of a sleezy bar, she fails to notice the small lamp on the table beside her flicking on and off. A cigarette, which had long ago burned out, is gripped between her first two fingers so tightly, he wondered if she feared to let it go. With her free hand, she twirls a lock of wheat colored hair lost in thoughts he could only imagine were dark and full of unanswered questions.
Still, he remained silent. He could only observe, like he was supposed to do. Never get involved, was his motto.  Besides, his work would come later, there was nothing he could do for her then.
A man walks past where she’s sitting, eyes still glazed and not focused on anything. He ponders for a moment, hovering near the empty seat next to her. The light flicks on again, he hesitates as though he could feel that something just wasn’t quite right, and then decides to move on.
She laughs suddenly; the sickly orange glow of the lamp, flickers. He’s not going to be able to wait much longer. He hated starting too early, sometimes people just need a moment to reflect—to put things into perspective. Always patient, he watched as the laugh died as quickly as it had come on. She had moved her hand slowly up her breast, past her pronounced collarbone, and had come to rest on the ruined flesh that circled around her thin neck.
It was time.
Her head snaps up to him, and for a moment, he let himself get lost in the beauty of her face.
He stooped so that they met eye to eye. “They never really do.” He said, in what he hoped was an empathetic tone.
“One never does, until it’s too late.”
He shakes his head, relaxing the muscles in his face to the practiced expression of what he had learned was called “compassion.”
He nods again, waiting for her to understand.
“Yes.”
Resolved to the fate she had brought upon herself, she whispered, “So what now?”
She slips on soft, slender hand into his waiting one and stands. The lamp’s yellow light burns bright as she moves away from it.

Updates, and How I felt about The Conjuring

So, I’ve committed to making sure I write at least 1,000 words a day…no matter what. I’m ready to get Awakening Spring’s first draft finally finished and handed over to my wonderful team to rip it to shreds. For me, I think I have the most fun during the re-writes. The first draft, for me, is like the perfect outline for me to build off of.
For awhile I was dealing with some serious writer’s block. It was of my own doing. Making excuses, being lazy, you know, the normal things that keep people from doing what they need (and in my case, really want to do, but can’t seem to pull myself out of the rut) but damn it all, sometimes I need to know how those kids on So you think you can dance are doing.
*shrug* I’m hopeless, I know.

But, fear not, I’m back on track and have already moved through what I felt was my rough patch. Please keep your fingers, toes, and whatever you like, crossed for me!

The other night, my husband and I decided to hit the movie theaters. I had wanted to see The Conjuring since I had caught a glimps of the trailer a few months back. Anyone who knows me personally, knows that I am a huge paranormal fan, and since I was very familiar with Ed and Lorraine Warren’s work I knew I had to go and see this movie.

Based on the true haunting of the Perron family, Ed and Lorraine attempt to help the family who are being terrorized by spirits.
Right the hell up my alley..
Though, personally, I wasn’t scared or nervous watching this film (I’m weird, I eat this kind of stuff up in my normal life…so there’s that.) I think people would really enjoy this movie. If you want to look up the real story behind the film, I suggest this site to start you off. http://www.chasingthefrog.com/reelfaces/conjuring.php

I did find it hard to suspend my disbelief since I have followed a lot of the Warren’s cases, so I knew about the creepy “Annabelle” doll, and even heard about this family’s case. 
If you feel like being creeped out, go see this film. But, just keep in mind, this stuff had actually happened. (Some things were dramatized at bit for Hollywood’s sake)

Now, you’ll know how weird I really am.

So, as you can see, I don’t handle writers block very well.

Silliness aside, I really am trying to get Awakening Spring finished.