Barbie Dolls And Ribs

This is a really, really old story of mine I shared at the request of my good friend, Sarah, at Secret Art Expedition. This one’s for you..

Lucas Jackson eased the rust-splotched black Escort off the shoulder of the road and rolled into a pool of moon-shade beneath the drooping branches of an oak. He turned off the key and settled back onto the seat. And he waited, his fingers nervously tracing the outline of the snub-nosed .38 special in his coat pocket.

He had parked in the squat oak’s inky shadow every night for a week straight, sat there from ten pm until two in the morning. He had watched the sparse traffic crawl up Blessing Hills Drive, watched the Caddies and Mercedes and big obscene Hummers amble by, turn right and pass through the electronically controlled gates guarding Blessing Hills Estates. He had watched, invisible, as a black-and-white had climbed the hill every two hours or so and cruised through the gates that swung open in welcome. A quick circle and back out. Two hours later, another pass. Two hours. Plenty of time to get in, get the job done, and get out. Piece of cake. Continue reading

Maggie’s Treasure

Maggie’s belly gnawed on her backbone. The half-eaten Big Mac and soggy fries the fat man had tossed out his car window into the gutter yesterday afternoon had long since been digested by her scrawny frame. Now, here it was almost midnight a day later and no meal in sight. But she was used to being hungry. Since they’d put her out of the hospital a few years back, her belly had been empty a whole lot more than it’d been full.

“Steak sounds good,” she said to the empty streets. “Think I’ll go by Delmonaco’s.” If she was lucky, maybe she could fish one out of the dumpster in back.

Pushed by a frigid north wind, crackly brown leaves skittered along the sidewalk, danced around Maggie’s feet, then disappeared into the blackness of the alleyway behind her. Ice pellets freckled her face. Beneath four layers of clothing, she shivered. Pausing, she pulled the ratty knit cap firmly down over her ears, then grabbed a threadbare blanket out of the chaos of dingy rags wadded in her shopping cart, and draped it over her shoulders.

Maggie wondered if she would survive the winter. Her arthritic joints griped constantly, and their combined voices were getting harder to ignore with each passing year. Even her brain had grown stiff. Continue reading

Legion

it starts
and it ends
takes flight on dark wings
and soars from my pen

hell rises up
heaven falls
demons rush in
and pass through the walls
of the human psyche shored up
by gossamer gods and magic pills
tromp through mephitic mires of disbelief
brandishing swords, counting kills

nothing can protect you
not pleas, not prayers, nor unholy deals
from the metaphysical monsters I’ve set free
to nip and bite, sink razor teeth into your heels
and drag your bloody carcass down
into the tenebrous pits below
to rip apart your flesh
and feast upon your soul

it starts
and it ends
takes flight on dark wings
and soars from my pen

An old poem from a previous blog.

Photo from Pixabay

It

 

It was such a tiny thing, a speck of a thing, all alone in a soup of darkness. And it was hungry, so very hungry. All it had known in its short life had been this terrible, gnawing emptiness.

Emptiness inside. Emptiness outside.

All it knew was that it existed. Beyond that, nothing more.

It sensed something outside itself, and this something murmured: Open your mouth, little one.

And for the first time, it realized it had a mouth and what it was for. Continue reading

Ocean WordPress

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Help! I”m drowning!

…in  email notifications.

I’m sure there are many of you in the Blogosphere, like me, who are doing their best to keep a leaky, overcrowded boat afloat here on the digital blue ocean of WordPress. You continue bailing out the water but it’s rising faster than you can keep up with it, and your boat is slowly but surely sinking in a preponderance of posts.

I can no longer keep up. I have tried–at the expense of my own writing, and living life–but I think it’s time to give up the ghost. It’s either that or spend hours and hours each day reading and commenting on posts. And there are so many good ones, so many talented artists in various fields who share their work on WordPress that I follow. I want to read you all!

But I can’t.

I have a book almost ready to start sending out to literary agents, and other writing projects begging for my attention. I have a plethora of unread books waiting to be enjoyed. I have a family. I have a life. And I require a little sleep. We all do. So I am going to limit my time on WordPress. I’ll still be dropping by about every day for a short visit, but I can’t spend the entire day, kick back, and have a nice, leisurely lunch. I’ll pop in on everyone from time to time, but I won’t be reading every post made by everyone I follow.

I hope you all understand. I think most will because you’re going through the same thing, and quite a few have it far worse than I do. (And yes, I’m talking to you, Lonely Author.)

We all have to strike a balance in our lives, or be swept up in Ocean WordPress and continuously fight against the current to hold onto our sanity–and I don’t have much of that commodity to spare as is. So even though you won’t be seeing as much of me, you will be seeing me. And I hope all of you will drop by my place too, as time allows.