Sunday, May 26, 2013

Ruthie is back.... *malicious chuckle*


Ruthie- Going Back



“Ruthanne, I thought today we could talk about something a little different. Before your mother had you ever hurt anyone, or anything?”
“Well, sure I guess…”
“Would you like to tell me about it?”
“I really don’t want to get in anymore trouble, ma’am.”
“You can’t get in more trouble, but you can help me understand you a little better. Wouldn’t that be good?”
“I won’t get in trouble? Yeah, I guess I could tell you. It’ll be our secret, nobody even knows this.”
“OK.”
“One time when Mommy had me go get daddy for dinner, I always had to do that, I caught Daddy watching something on his computer. Something dirty. Sorry, I shouldn’t be giggling but if you had seen it-  Oh, it was pret-ty bad.”
“Did your father notice you had come in?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t worry about him much ‘cuz he was busy. He didn’t stop neither. Anyways, later that night, while everyone was sleepin’, I was thinking about what I had seen and…”
“Go on, Ruthie.”
“Well, I was thinking that that was the kind of thing that Mommy and Daddy do together, right? Not with some lady on the computer. I got pretty upset that my Daddy was playing with another lady so I went into his office and was gonna break his computer. If he didn’t have that he couldn’t cheat on Mommy, ya know?”
“I suppose…”
“So, I had one of his golf clubs, he really liked to go golfing, you know? Mommy said it was how he relaxed.  I just don’t see how hitting that little ball-  “
“What did you do with the club?”
“Oh, I smashed his computer. I knew Mommy would act mad, but she’d really be glad. I was thinking if I did this she might not hate me as much.”
“Why did you think your mother hated you?”
“I know she hated me. Sometimes I wouldn’t say they right things when we was around people and she’d get embarrassed. Daddy came in when I was smashing the stuff on his desk and he tried to grab the club. That’s when I smacked him in the forehead with it. Kind of on accident, but after he fell I hit him a few more times. It felt good.”
“Why did you stop?”
“Because Kristine called the cops, duh.”
“Was your mother upset with you?”
“Oh boy, was she. She still hated me. Daddy hated me too. The doctors tried to talk them into putting me in a place. They didn’t, you know, but I wondered why. Mommy would say, “I could have been rid of you, you know?”, but still she never got rid of me. She still had my birthday party with My Little Pony.”
“Is that all that happened? You had mentioned a cat before.”
“Yeah! Mr. Jinx, I brought him in from outside and he was just a baby. Mommy would have been real mad. She didn’t like animals, especially in her house.”
“What happened with Mr. Jinx, Ruthanne?”
“He was going to get me in trouble, he was. He wouldn’t be quiet at all. Mommy would have been so mad. One night when he was meowing and meowing I tried everything; brought him milk, water, some chicken, but he kept meowing.”
“Ruthie, what are you doing with your hands?”
“That’s how I pet Mr. Jinx, when he’d let me. Anyways, Mommy would have started yelling at me if she heard the kitten going on like he was. I cuddled him real close to my chest, like this, but he kept at it. I walked to my desk and grabbed my scissors. I only wanted to scare him…”
“Did you scare him?”
“You still ask a lot of questions.”
“It’s still my job.”
“I don’t think I’d like your job much.”
“Some day’s its hard.”
“Yes, I did scare him. He kept meowing. It took a lot of work with those kid scissors, but he did eventually stop that meowing.”



Another 666 words. Ruthie gives me the creeps :) I more or less wrote this for Nicole... does that make it more creeptastic? I think so.

Saturday, May 4, 2013

Disjointed hip thrust

Why...

is it so dang cool when you find out that an author you really enjoyed lives in the same state?
Not the same city. Not the same county. But the same state.

It's the book nerds dream that this author would suddenly come around and say,

"Hey, we should hang out!"

Anyways, Becca Ann, or Cassie Mae, lives right here in Utah! I really loved her book

It made a big splash (pun not intended) on Amazon, and has quite the fan base! Don't let the title fool you, you don't have to be the funny fat friend to enjoy it. It was cute, romantic and LOL funny.



That's my awesome news for the day. :)
I'm easy to please.

Friday, May 3, 2013

Taken Home

Taken Home

I had written this just after the Sandy Hook Elem shooting.



When the call came, that Friday in December, Tahlia was not prepared for what she would be doing that day. 
As she arrived on the curb of the quaint elementary school the air was charged with fierce determination and the tang of fear. Once inside, the halls were quiet, though she could feel many souls around. Inside a classroom, walls covered in bright artwork and vibrant photos, she first sees her. Standing there was a beautiful child with fair hair and big blue eyes. She was hers to shepherd.
"You glow," the child proclaims, lifting her small hand in front of her freckled face. "I glow, too!" Her eyes grow wide.
"Yes. You are quite beautiful, child. Tell me, do you understand what has happened?" Tahlia asks carefully.
Her button nose scrunched as she wrung her hands, tugging at her skirt. "Teacher said we had to hide and be very quiet. We did, we did just like teacher said. Even Chase listened and he never does!" She glances at the cabinets in the back of the classroom. One door hung open.
"Child, would you like to come with me? There is someone very important who awaits your return to Him." Tahlia extends her hand and offers the small child a warm smile. The innocence this soul exudes is staggering. She will never understand the way of man. They should cherish, praise and protect the true innocence left in their world.
"God? Mommy said that when we—" She gulps. "—Die an angel would take us to God. Is my Grandma there?" Her eyes grow wet with unshed tears but she gingerly places her hand in Tahlia's.
"Yes, your heavenly Father waits for you with all your loved ones that have passed. Don’t fret my love. You will never be alone, never feel hurt or sadness." Tahlia leads them to the doors. Along the walls, papers flutter in the gentle breeze from an open door.
Bulletin boards full of Christmas party invitations, choir recital reminders, and handprint Santa’s hang in the dark passageway. Hand cut snowflakes and paper chains hang from the ceiling and over doorways. Discarded backpacks litter the floor, thrown down in a rush. Other Angels begin to join them in the hallway, walking out of various rooms, with little souls in tow. The children smile and wave at each other as they gather together.
Tahlia feels a tug at her robe. "Yes, child?" She leans her face down.
"Will my family be okay?" the small one asks with genuine concern.
Kneeling to place a hand on the child’s heart, Tahlia tells her the truth. "They will miss you dearly. They will be sad for a while but thoughts of you, of your beautiful smile, will warm their hearts. You will leave behind wonderful memories for them to hold on to and they know you will be happy in Heaven, watching over them."
Rising up again, Tahlia and her innocent lead the others out of the front doors and into Heaven where their Father waited for them with arms open wide and a love more intense than they could ever imagine.

Kris Pittman 2012©

Saturday, April 20, 2013

Playing with digital art...


Things I have made today :)


I think this turned out pretty neat.

Idk... I wanted a girl w/ a gun.

This is Quinn from the Vic series <3


I made this for the Insignificant page.

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Apocalips: Episode 2- Happily Ever Astor

Whew! I have been wanting to post Episode 2 for quite awhile, but it needed some help.
I have wonderful friends who gave it that much needed help!

This picks up RIGHT where Episode 1 left off, so you will need to read that first.

*****

I place a finger to my lips to urge the janitor to keep quiet. To save him, and myself, I have to go undetected by them. Searching the surroundings, I find a broken tree limb about ten feet away, precariously close to those things. I’ll have to be stealthy to get to it, which is not one of my finer qualities.
I take one unsteady step before a jumble of nerves causes me to sprint. My hand just closes around the fat end of the branch when I hear three loud pops and change route to dive behind the corner of the building. 
“What the fuck were you gonna do with the stick? These aren’t dogs. Fucking women.”
A peek around the corner reveals a garishly tall man with a buzz cut and well-worn cowboy boots. He is busy holstering his weapon and paying me no mind when I finally find my spine again.
“Who’re you?” I mean for my voice to sound rough and demanding but I barely manage a squeak.
“Who am I? I’m the guy that just saved your God damn ass, that’s who. Now, who’re you?”
“I’m Tonya.”
“Well, Tonya, did you really think that stick was going to do much?”
Remembering the janitor, I look beyond my rescuer only to find the janitor as well as the things all have holes in their heads. Three shots. “What did you do?” I clutch the branch.
“He woulda changed. I did the humane thing and ended it. Don’t go getting too many ideas about rescuing people once they’ve been bitten. They all change; it’s just a matter of time. Some in minutes, others an hour or two.”
“Who are you and why do you know so much about them?”
“Names Astor, Jakob Astor. And I know because I have seen other people change. I’ve got together a group of hunters and lawmen after I saw what was happening. In just a couple of hours we’ve lost about half dozen of them, dumb asses. Don’t worry, though, we have a place for the women and children and we’ve already stocked it up.”
“How completely… sexist of you.” I paint my most saccharine smile on my face.
“You were about to try and beat two of ’em, off of a dead man, with a damn twig. All due respect, but that was about to be a damn fool move. Your ass is lucky I was around.”
“Jan!” Phil flies around the corner and comes eye to eye with the business end of Astor’s handgun. The man moves quickly.
“Hold the fuck up! Now, who the fuck are you?” Astor asks.
“Who are you? Jan, are you alright?” His eyes don’t leave Astor’s face.
“I’m alright, Phil. He, kind of, saved me from two of them.”
“You little vixen, you said your name was Tonya, now which is it?”
“My real names Jan.”
He re-holsters his gun, “You’re already too much trouble, d’ya know that?”
“She won’t be your problem anymore. She is with me.”
“Now, wait a second here…” I interject. Problem?
“Oh yeah? You her husband or something?” 
“No, but we aren’t going anywhere with you.”
“And why’s that? Could be your best chance of surviving.”
“Excuse me but…” 
“Falling in with a vigilante who is armed to the teeth isn’t gonna be any safer for us than the church.” Phil’s hand wraps around my arm and he pulls me to his side. If either of them would bother to look at me, they’d wither and die. Alas, they are locked in a cock fight.
“The big gothic fair, over there?” 
“Yeah, survivors are settling in there.” Phil says.
“’Fraid God didn’t do too much saving of those folk. Nearly all have been eaten or changed. Rest scattered like flies. My group got what we could of the supplies. How long you been gone from there?”
There is a long pause while Phil looks to the grass for answers, “I dunno, but it can’t have been longer than a couple hours now.” His fingers loosen.
“Sounds like you got out just in time.”
“The infected?” 
“Terminated,” Astor doesn’t even flinch.
“How can you guys be so cool while talking about the end of the fucking world?”
“Don’t be so dramatic, sweetheart. We don’t even know how far this pandemic stretches. It may not be far past city limits. That’s why we are working on becoming mobile.” Astor crosses his arms over his chest.
“Without any vehicles?” Phil is composed again.
“How do you figure the pioneers got across the country, huh?”
“I don’t recall any flesh eating monsters after the pioneers in those stories.” I point out.
“No, but we do have better weaponry these days.” 
“Whose side are you taking, Phil?” I tilt my head at him.
“We have a wagon and a couple of horses. We really need to get outta here though. That body is sitting there like chum for a Great White.”
It’s hard not to simultaneously cringe and be in awe of Astor’s candor about the situation. Of course, a couple of hours in and I am already starting to harden, some. I hadn’t thought much about the janitor in the last few minutes, but we have drifted to less than five feet from his body. 
“I agree, we need to move away.” I make my way back towards the playground, not bothering to make sure the men are following. My stomach is in knots and it might be best if they aren’t too close. 
“Jan, you ok?” Phil says from behind me.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m peachy.” 
“You look the color of the sidewalk.” Reassuring, he was not.
“Ha! Thanks. This whole day has been pretty damn disturbing and I just need a minute to… gather myself, I guess.” Bracing hands on my knees, I bend and start counting breaths. 
“C’mere.” 
“What are you doing?”
“This is what people call a hug. It is often used to bring comfort to other human beings.”
“You didn’t strike me as the hugging type. Or the sarcastic type, for that matter.”
“Well, this does feel a bit like hugging a two-by-four. Would you relax?”
I begin to cry, laugh hysterically, and cling desperately to Phil’s shoulders all in the same moment. 
“I’m losing it.” I manage between sobs.
“I think you are doing as well as can be expected.” His giant hand presses my head to his chest, “In fact, I’ve seen men do a lot worse. Don’t let Astor get to you.” 
“If it was only him…”
“I know. C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up and go check out Astor’s group. I am not sure how much I trust him, yet.” 
“Phil?”
“Yeah,”
“Thanks.” I manage a genuine smile. “No, I mean it. Besides the obvious fact that you saved my life by waking me up, you are helping me keep some sanity intact. And that is appreciated.”
“You have no reason to thank me.” He wipes away the remaining tears from my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “Let’s go.”
***
Astor’s “group” is no more than a few backwoods rednecks, with guns and bows. 
“The women are over here.” He leads us to the back of the camp and into a tent, “Rose, is the unofficial den mother of the group. She is a second mother to most of us who grew up here.”
“I’ve been asking you to call me Miss Fitz since you were seven, Jakob.”
“And I’ve asked you to call me Astor. Stale-mate.” 
“Fair ‘nough,” She smiles and winks at me “And who are these folks?”
“Found ‘em in town. This is Phil, and this here is Jan. They were headed for the church.”
“Oh, dear. Y’all didn’t have family in there did you?” Her white eyebrows pinch with concern.
“No, ma’am. I had no family to speak of,” Phil answers.
“Uh, no. I only have a brother who lives out of the country. Do we know if this is local, national, global?” I look to each face, but Rose is the first to speak.
“Here, have some tea, dear,” she says as she lifts a cup to me. “We have no communication lines workin’. We only hear what we can from people movin’ by us. Far as I can tell it’s at least got a thirty mile radius on us.”
“Astor! Come to the front. They’ve found us!” A teenage boy sticks his head through the flaps. 
“Rose, you keep the women and children here. Understand? You don’t come out until one of us come get you and prove to be human.” Phil come with me, brother.”
“Yes, Jakob they won’t be gettin’ past me.” Rose lifts a gun the size of her arm from under the table she is serving tea at. The weapon is at odds with the serene, elderly woman sitting across from me.
“Phil, come with me, brother.” At Phil’s nod, they turn towards the action.
“Phil?” I clutch his shirt sleeve.
“I’m gonna go help them. Take my gun and protect the kids.”
At the front of the camp, men are shouting and more gunfire erupts. Women and children begin to file into the stuffy tent. Phil squeezes my hand and follows Astor out of the tent.
“Wait,” I look at the gun in my hand, “What will you have for protection?”
“I wasn’t gonna send him in unarmed, sweetheart. Rick, get this man a fucking shotgun!”
“See, I’ll be fine. Now get back in there--“
I silence his reassurance with a kiss. It’s urgent and hard, and takes us both completely by surprise. It is a few stunned seconds before he returns the passion tenfold. He laces a hand through my hair and gently pulls my head away. The surroundings start to fade back into our reality. Making-out amidst the apocalypse is not a smooth move.
“Good luck.” I expel a breath.
“Thank you?” 

Monday, April 8, 2013

What is right...


For me?


That is a damn fine question. One I  have been struggling with for some time.
Maybe, I am not supposed to write but continue to support those who do write. I sometimes think that if I were meant to write it would just flow out of me.

That is so not happening.

Well, Ruthie just kind of worked like that but that was a lucky break. Lol. It also happens to be one of my favorite pieces I've written.

I really enjoy promoting and helping authors out in anyway I can. It is fulfilling in its own way.
Obviously I enjoy reading! Lol. But maybe this has led me to some delusional frame of mind that said, 

"Hey, you should do that!"

Like knitting, or sewing or baking. I enjoy knitted scarves and elaborate cakes but this doesn't mean I should be the one to make them! And I have dabbled in all 3 of those by the way. 

This is the cover pic for my personal fb page. Love it!


Anyways, I am going to keep at it because I do enjoy it. That is the point to it, right?
Keep doing what you enjoy. :)

Happy reading, writing, living, or whatever it is you do!

** We are under a winter storm warning here. Yup, 3-6" of snow in mid(ish) April. **

Friday, April 5, 2013

What I am doing...

Nothing too terribly exciting.


JK! I get the pleasure of possibly being THE cover designer for C.M. Wright's Vampire novel she is working on now. In between working on that and Managing I Heart Books, I am beta reading and reviewing a few books for some authors/friends. 

What time is left, and not spent being domestic, is used on writing! Unfortunately there is not a ton of time and a million idea's in my head. I need to organize my thoughts. LOL. To help with that I have decided I will be taking a break from IHB duties next week. Hopefully I get some time to focus!


(Not that I don't enjoy bending over backwards for IHB fans!)
CHEEEEESE!

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Ruthie


This is a short (666 word) story that I literally just whipped out but I am quite pleased with it. I hope you get a clear enough picture of Ruthie, as I see her in my head. I had actually started this story out with a different sort of twist... it morphed.






“Ruthanne, open your eyes.”
“But it is easier to feel the music if they are closed.”
“There is no music. The only sound is of the others down the hall. Open them.”
“You don’t hear it because your eyes are open. It’s pretty.”
“There is no music and we need to have a talk, which would be easier if I knew you were looking at me.”
“Fine, it stopped anyways because you won’t be quiet. What is it?”
“Ruthie, do you know why you are here?”
“My mom sent me. She says I will feel better soon and come back home.”
“You aren’t going home. That is just no longer a possibility for you. Do you understand why that is?”
“No, my mom said I could come back. I am her child, not yours. If she wants me back she can take me back.”
“I am afraid it is not that simple, Ruthanne. Do you remember what happened the night you were brought here?”
“Sure. I was upset because mommy wouldn’t allow me a second piece of cake even though it was my birthday. I had picked out the My Little Pony’s theme, you know that? Someday I’ want to have a pony.”
“What happened when you were upset?”
“I--  I, uh, I think I knocked my cake to the floor. Oh, no! Is my mom still upset about that? I ruined that nice cake. Can I apologize to her? I can call her right?”
“Maybe you can make a call later. Let’s finish our talk.”
“She must be so upset with me.”
“Ruthie, what happened after you knocked the cake down, do you recall?”
“I was so mad at my mom. It was my seventeenth birthday, and I had been good all day, and I had picked up my room, and I had picked out the cake! It was my cake. She never liked me, my mom. I am different than precious Kristine and different wasn’t good enough.”
“Different isn’t always bad. What happened after the cake fell?”
“I think my mom bent to clean up the mess. She was yelling something at me, you know, I don’t even remember what but I was still so mad.”
“Ruthie did you do anything after that, before the police came?”
“I called the police. I remembered to dial 9-1-1 just like mom had shown me. When I saw mommy laying on the floor with all that blood around her I just knew I had to call the ambulance. Is that why I can’t go home, because she is in the hospital?”
“Do you remember how your mom started bleeding?”
“She was yelling those things at me and I saw the knives on the counter in their wooden thing. I am not supposed to touch the knives, you know. You have to be very super careful.”
“Yes, you should be very careful with sharp things. Good job. When you saw the knives what did you do?”
“I grabbed one and I made mom stop yelling at me, of course. It wasn’t easy. The cat seemed to shut up a lot faster when I did it to him. Maybe because moms bigger.”
“How did you make your mother stop yelling?”
“That is a silly question, you know that?”
“Why is that silly?”
“I can tell by the way you look at me that you know how I made her stop.”
“But will you tell me, anyways?”
“I took the knife and put the sharp side under her chin and sawed back and forth, back and forth, until she stopped yelling. She couldn’t tell me ‘no’ then, could she?”
“Do you realize what happens when you cut someone’s throat, Ruthie?”
“She stops yelling. That’s what I am telling you, you know.”
“After that,”
“They die. So, when can I call my mom?”
“When you cut your mothers throat she died. Do you understand what that means?”
“She stopped breathing.”
“Yes, and if we don’t breathe what happens?”
“We die?”

Saturday, March 30, 2013

Apocalips: Episode 1- Eat and Greet

I have been a slacker over here at the blog. 
But I have been busy elsewhere and fitting in writing when possible.
:)
Apocaplips is a series I was originally going to be posting on my  FB page, but it might be better suited for the blog. Thanks for the advice, Nick Santa Rosa!


Apocalips:

Episode 1- Eat and Greet





The sounds of car alarms bring me out of my daze. There are people screaming in the distance and a lot of pounding. Although, that could be in my temples. 

Nope, someone is pounding on my windshield. 

"Son of a..."

Lifting my head from the steering wheel the world slowly comes back into focus. Only its dark now-- I know it was barely mid afternoon when I left my restaurant. There is a man approaching my window.

"Lady! Hey, you alive?" 

Was I in an accident?

"Yeah, I think, I'm fine." I answer, prodding my forehead.

"Good. We need to get outta here. Leave the car. C'mon!" He waves an expectant hand at me, all the while searching for danger over his shoulder. I search the street with him...

"Get out of here? But I can’t leave the scene of an-- Hey, why are these cars parked in the road?"

"Lady, c'mon. Fuck!" The man reaches into my backseat to grab my jacket, "Sorry. Let's get!"

"What happened? Terrorists?" I shove my cell phone and charger into my purse hastily. 

"No, this was beyond terrorism. I'm not sure but it was like... hell, I don't know. Let's get off the street. A group of people are gathering at the church over there." He points to a gothic chapel on the far corner of Main. 

"All the stores are dark."

"Power... well, everything electrical just went out. Hasn't come back yet." He grabs my elbow and starts tugging me towards the church, stopping at every car.

"What are you doing?"

"I’m checking for other survivors. This is how I found you."

"My name is Jan, by the way. Yours?"

He pauses to look me over. "Phil."

"You don't look like a 'Phil', is that really your name? I would have guessed Jason, maybe."

"Jan, was it? I don't think you are grasping the gravity of our situation! We need keep moving."

A phlegmy growl from the left, whips our attention that direction. In the opening of an alley stands a man hiding a child, presumably his own, behind his back. At his feet is a... a woman? Her body moves stiffly, some limbs moving out of sync with the rest. Now, I've seen a couple episodes of The Walking Dead, and this can't be good. She isn't entirely human.

"What is she?"

"Stay." Phil whispers in my ear then he stalks off towards the shadows behind the thing. When he emerges again it’s at a full run towards the thing. He stoops low and lifts her off her feet and slams her onto the ground. Before I can even register what is in his hand a flash of light and loud pop ring in the air. 

A gunshot to the forehead, no coming back from that. Even for these things.

The child screams hysterically, and honestly, the father isn't fairing much better. I am about to unravel, myself.

"Come with us to the church," I offer, stepping closer to the pair with my hand out, "He tells me there is a group of survivors."

Neither of them acknowledges my presence; instead they continue to cling to each other. Phil is at my side again tucking the gun in the waist of his pants. I should be second guessing my decision to follow him so readily, I had no idea he was armed, but the prospect of one of us having a gun is way too inviting to turn back now.

"The church down the road is accepting all survivors. You should be getting your daughter off the streets." When the father still doesn't spare either of us a glance, Phil starts pushing me along again. "He'll come if he is smart." 

"Phil," I grab his arm, bringing him to a stop, "What the fuck is going on here? I'm driving home from work this afternoon and then I-I- just wake up in my car, in the dark, with... with what the hell was wrong with that lady? She was about to attack her own child. I may not have a nurturing bone in my body, but even I know that isn't right!"

"I should've headed home too," Phil laughs humorlessly, "Ya know, that's not even the first one of those things I've had to kill today." He runs a hand down his face, "Like I said, I am not really sure what happened. All I know is there was a brilliant flash of light and the air felt charged, then everything went dark. Some of the people who lived started changing and the rest of us are getting the hell out of their way."

"What do you think they've changed into?"

"Truthfully, I don't know. Undead? Zombies? Demons? Your guess is as good as mine. All I do know is, to kill one you aim for the brain or heart."

"You said that wasn't the first one you had to kill?"

"I woke up to my buddy trying to eat the waitress. I tried a few no-kill shots but they barely slowed him down. Chest shot did the trick." 

"Wow." 

"'Wow', that's it?"

"What else do you say? Gee, I'm sorry your friend went cannibalistic and you had to take him out? Not likely."

I hadn't noticed we were moving again until we reached an intersection. We were close to the church now, only about a block away. 

"I want to search this school right here. You coming with me or waiting here?"

"I'll wait. Too many horror scenes start out with the line, 'I just want to check this out.'"

"Fine. Stay outta sight and take this. Remember what I said about the brain and heart."

"I'm supposed to beat a person in the head with this?" I balance the crowbar on my palm.

"No, not a person. A thing. Sit tight, I'll be quick."

A thing, right. I nod and he dips into the school while I park myself high up on the monkey bars.

Sitting on my perch I begin to think about my life. I know, it sounds cliché but when the world is coming to an end, what else can you do? You take stock. I owned a small restaurant that was barely getting by, and somehow it didn't seem that this dark days event was going to help that cause much. I was an only child of bookish parents, both of whom were gone now. I lived with two cats. I wasn't dating, or even seeing anyone, hence the cats. And forget a sex life. Let's face it, if a thing started gnawing on me right now it would be the most action I'd seen in ten months. The thought of Marty Sans being my last lover, in all the world, was a rather depressing thought.

I'm literally yanked out of my inner musings and I grab a bar just before I would have eaten sand box. An elderly thing is now actively trying to disconnect my drumstick and I can’t let go of the play set in order to whack him with my crowbar. The gentlemen, who kind of reminds me of Mr. Wilson from Dennis the Menace, is tugging on my pants so hard they are in real danger of coming off and maybe taking my legs with them.

"Phil! Phiiiiil, some help please!"

I use my free foot to try and push Mr. Wilson away but the old coot is surprisingly strong. My grip on the bar is slipping. Just as I am about resigned to fate, a loud thud and an abrupt jerk knocks both the 'thing' and my pants to the ground. 

"You have got to be kidding me! I said stay out of sight, Jan. Jesus."

My knuckles protest as I loosen my death-grip enough to fall to the sand below. 

"Well, I thought I would have the advantage of height."

"And you should have. So, what happened?"

"I, uh, started daydreaming, I guess."

"Daydreaming and didn't catch a snarling, flesh-eating, sack of skin walk right up to you? Must have been some dream." Hooking a hand under my arm he helps me to my feet.

"Ow! Actually, it was about regrets really. Silly timing maybe."

"You think? Ha! And what do you have to regret? Besides the fact you almost became a Sizzler buffet for senior crowd." He dusts off my pants and hands them to me. 

"Thanks. Truth?" At his shrug I continue, "My business was failing and my sex life was non existent."

"I think your button is broken." He coughs.

"Of course it is. Ugh!"

"Missing buttons aren't the worst of our problems." He stares over my shoulder.

"I don't want to turn around, do I?"

"No. You do want to run, though! Now!"

I don't have to be told twice. Taking off towards the school I almost barrel straight into a couple of 'things' snacking on the janitor. 

"He-elp..."

This is not how I had imagined my day.


Sunday, March 10, 2013

That didn't go as palnned.

 
 

 Nope. Not how I planned it at all!

 
I went to open Insignificant last night and somehow the file was corrupt and would not open.
How does this happen? I don't know.
 
The last 1k words I wrote...
gone!
 
I just keep telling myself, it wasnt meant to be. That the new 1k words will be brilliant by comparison! Let's hope I'm not a damn liar! LOL

Saturday, March 9, 2013

The Whys...

 

 

The reason I started this blog...

 
I thought it might be entertaining, as well as motivating, to chronicle my  journey to becoming a self-published author. Start to The End, and God willing, all over again!
I have a bit of trouble focusing long enough to finish one story, and therefore I have more WIP's than I know what to do with. So, to begin, I will be choosing ONE WIP to finish while you guys "watch". For this experiment I have chosen to complete a piece I have tentatively titled
 
Insignificant.

A rough draft excerpt:

There is no greater proof of ones insignificance than death.

In the moment I died, I did not find the peace that people always talk
about. The only light I saw was the blinding halogen above the trauma
table. No long gone family members came for me. No one beckoned me
forward with open arms and promises of love eternal. No white gossamer
wings and shining halos.

No, when I died, all I felt was fear and anxiety.



This piece was inspired by the feelings I had while walking out of the hospital the night my mom passed away.