Weekly Newsletter

I think I am going to start offering a weekly newsletter with articles, updates on my writing and what is going on with me, information on how to get a hold of my books etc., also since I find a lot of interesting things to write about all week, I think I will add them and some of my most popular stories and other stories I haven’t posted anywhere else. I might also have a part where I offer support and advice to others going through things such as PTSD, Depression, Anxiety and not knowing how to get their ideas on “paper” or published etc. I know I am no expert by any means but every little bit of advise helps out. So I was thinking of adding this as a premium content thing, but am not sure yet. I think though I am going to give it a whirl as premium content for a bit and then if it doesn’t work out then I’ll go back to just having it as free content until such times as I can get the following to make it premium. It is just a thought at this point.

I will be posting a full length post tomorrow as today I am dealing with anxiety and Depression pretty bad today. I can’t think straight and I feel defeated and down and I can’t write anything when I feel like that. So until tomorrow…

As always Happy Writing and have a Good and Happy Evening.

Have You Heard?

Living Cat Telephone

Have you ever heard of the Living Cat Telephone?

I hadn’t either until I was browsing around on the web looking for story ideas and fascinating facts in history. I came upon an article about how a professor and his research assistant turned a cat who was a live and stayed so, into a telephone of sorts. Here is how it went…

Professor Ernest Glen Wever and his assistant Charles William Bray while working on learning how the auditory nerve transmits and uses sound waves decided to use the a cat to test out some of their experiments. This was 1929 so animal right’s activists weren’t very active. They took a cat, heavily sedated it, drilled a hole in its skull, attached a telephone wire to the auditory nerve and the other end to a telephone receiver. Then while Wever held the receiver in a sound proof room 50 feet away, Bray would speak into the cats ear and the sounds and words would come through loud and clear on the receiver. They made many modifications to this experiment and tried differentiating the blood flow to different parts of the brain and hooking up the wire to different parts of the brain, but only while the wire was attached to the auditory nerve did the words come through. They found that the louder the sound the higher the frequency. This experimentation led to many technological breakthroughs. Wever learned that people with musical talent made better sonar operators because they could distinguish the different nuances of sound, this was put into practice in WWII during the submarine warfare. This also has benefits today, such as the Cochlear implants used today for the deaf to be able to hear. 

Can you imagine what we will do next to animals in the pursuit of understanding the human body? Hmmmm that’s right we clone human ears and body parts on rats and pigs. So all you Mozart’s out there who think that being in the military isn’t for you, join the Navy as a sonar operator and you will find your calling for a little while anyway. And all those of you out there with hearing implants you can thank a poor cat from the local shelter near Princeton university for your implant and ability to hear.

What will humans think of next? Why do we as humans feel the need to experiment on animlas that can’t talk? Oh that’s right we think because they can’t talk they don’t feel emotions like we do, well, i know a lot of emotional therapy animals that would disagree with that sentiment, and I am so thankful that animal right’s organizations came along and stopped this sort of experimentation on animals. Just because it can’t talk like we do doesn’t mean it can’t feel or have emotions too. My hat is off to this cat for taking it and for living a long life after they were done with him for experimentation purposes, I hope he found a loving forever home after this. Cos, he needed all the extra love he could get after this, I mean that is like how we used to treat mental patients before we got humane treatments.

So although no one is advocating using your household cat to replace your iPhone, it does make you want to next time you are around a friendly feline whisper in its ear a thankyou to its relative who unwittingly- but significantly- contributed to the understanding we have today of the human ear.

So, just thought I would pass on the interesting tid-bit I found on the internet last night while looking around. As always Happy Writing and have a good evening.

Work, Why?

What’s the Point In Calling Us A Team?

Why call us a security team, when there are those that on the team are going to throw you under the proverbial bus, whenever they think it will benefit them? I have come to learn that in this area of Ohio, the people here will be nice to your face and then when you aren’t looking throw you under the bus! They are all about what they can get out of a person and how to use a person for their gain, even if it makes then look like a total shitbag, so long as they are getting something out of it and gaining something they don’t care. They are even like it to their family members. I have never lived in a place like it before in my entire life, and I have lived in a lot of places! We are supposed to be a team here at work and have each others back, but if you step out of what they consider the line, or say anything to someone they think of as a friend, oh they are quick to find a fault and exploit it and snitch on you. Even if it is all in their perception of the situation.

I am so tired of working here right now, one person is mad at the company for messing up their pay so they are looking for any excuse to get someone else in trouble because they are mad! Personally after 2 weeks if they hadn’t paid me or were telling me it was my fault and they are going to get it to me next check and I didn’t get there would be a lawyer involved, but instead she is being a total a-hole to all who she works with! It makes no sense to me. I don’t know maybe it is because I have lived in other countries and cities and I am not used to small “town” life and small city life, but I sure as hell wouldn’t be almost 2 months later waiting on my pay. 

I am getting to the point in my life where I am tired of drama and I hate to be any part of it, and when someone drags my name in to something because they are mad, then I just get to the point where I say “you know what my sanity and my reputation isn’t worth this mess, I’ll just go some place else.” I know I don’t have to put up with high school drama stuff and when they act like just put up with it, don’t retaliate or anything because you are a supervisor and you are or should be better than that, then I get the feeling that my supervisor doesn’t have my back and like I would rather go someplace else. 

Life is too short to be miserable at your job and live like this, walking on egg shells so you don’t offend someone, by doing what a supervisor should do. I would rather sit at home and collect disability than deal with this and then just stay at home and not come out, because it seems like the world is getting so childish and you have to watch everything you say and do for fear of offending someone. That is no way to live. I am sorry if you are young and don’t remember a time when you could say and do just about anything and not offend anyone, but those were the days, you could actually hold a conversation for more than two minutes because you could say what was on your mind and be open in what you said and not have to think about am I saying something that will offend this person, OK I better just not say anything because I don’t want to upset them or someone within ear shot. 

The world as we know it is slowly becoming a prison cell. It is a damned if you do damned if you don’t situation every day. It is getting to the point where I don’t want to leave my house anymore. I used to love going out and about and meeting new people, but now, I hate to interact with people and go out because I am afraid that the way I am will get taken wrong and I will offend someone’s sensibilities! GROW UP! I feel like the next person who tells me that offends me, I want to just scream in their face. Nothing you do or say these days isn’t offensive, it’s like you can’t say this, you can’t do that, you can’t be proud of where you come from, you can’t celebrate this or that, you can’t display this or that, you can’t wear this or that. I mean if i wanted to live in a dictatorship where I am told what to wear and do and say I would move to somewhere like China or North Korea! We are supposed to be the land of the free, we have an amendment for just about everything, yet we live in fear of offending someone by using and expressing those freedoms, how free are we really? 

I know I started off talking about work and how we aren’t a team here, and I know I got off on a tangent, but really it is all about the fact that one person did wrong I as a supervisor said something and asked them to correct it and the other person felt I offended them and so they went to the boss about something I was wearing over my uniform, but the kicker is I wasn’t even on the clock and there were no client employees in the building and it is not like it was bright pink and has rainbows all over it like their face covering, but because I spoke as a supervisor they got offended and said I was speaking in a hostile manner, which I wasn’t I just asked a question and told them what I’d been told and that was it, walked out of the room. I think people of the generation from the end of the 90’s on have a sense of entitlement that they feel they shouldn’t be spoken to by anyone about anything, they should get to come to work do as they wish and get paid to do nothing, just for showing up basically. I wish I could have tried this same crap when I was just starting out working, I would have lost my job instantly. It makes me want to dip out now, before these people are running the country and the work places. Life then as we know it, being the older more harsh generation will end. 

Look out those over 40, life is going to get bad for you. May as well walk around with a gag in and in all black because the way we talk and what we wear is offensive, and considered hostile. My oh my! 

Anyway, I’m going to end my venting here! As always Happy Writing and have a good evening, see you next time!

Don’t Fear the Big Jolly Man in Red!

HoHoHoHo

Photo by Josh Hild on Pexels.com

What terrifies you at Christmas?

1. No Presents?
2. No Santa?
3. Waking up with no Snow?
4. Waking up with too much snow?
5. Not waking up.
6. What about finding Jolly ‘ole Saint Nick isn’t so jolly?
7. Waking up and you are all alone?
8. Learning that Santa isn’t real for the first time?
9. Learning that all your childhood dreams and hopes are just folly?
10. Finding out that what you believed to be true is all just one big lie?
11. Finding out that the man you love really isn’t the man you love after all?
12. Finding out that it is all based on a lie?
13. The big jolly man in the red suit is not a big jolly man at all?
14. What would you fear the most?

I know when I was a small child I would dream of Christmas and all the great gifts it would bring, and trying to catch a glimpse of Santa, but the older I got the less this held appeal to me, because after all the letters I had sent and never once receiving what I asked for the most, I began to think more and more that Santa was just a big fat lie to keep me satisfied and compliant all through the year. At the tender age of 12 I found out from a friend that if I waited till late at night and then crept down, I would see that Santa really was just my parents waiting until we were all asleep and then putting gifts under the tree and a big red stocking at the foot of my bed. I at first didn’t believe her because much as she was my best friend, she did have a penchant for lying. I was told all the way up until the big day that if I weren’t good Santa wouldn’t bring me any gifts and I would get coal and nothing more. I tried so hard to believe it that year, but the closer it got and the more I wanted to believe it seemed the more determined she was to make me not believe, so Christmas Eve, I closed my eyes tight and waited, sure enough my parents came in and looked to see if I was asleep and then the big red stocking was placed at the foot of my bed, then they crept back out and into my sisters room and then my brothers room, then they crept down the hall to the living room, where the closet behind the tree was opened and out of it they brought all the presents that read from Santa. I was so devastated! So, it was true, Santa was a lie! I was so angry, I went back to bed and just laid there until the morning. In the morning my sisters and brother were all excitement and joy and I was miserable. I wanted to tell them so badly what a lie we had been fed. My parents asked if we got everything we wanted and if any of us had seen Santa. I spoke up and said that I never got anything that was on my list and that yes I had seen Santa and his “Helper” my parents looked at each other and then smiled and told me to stop being such a little brat and that there was no way I could have seen Santa and his helper because he was always so careful. I was adamant, I had seen them and I wanted them to know the Charade was now over. Instead of just letting me talk and get it out, my parents did what made it all the more real that there was no Santa, ,they punished me, by taking away my gifts and sending me to my room, until I could be more respectful of Santa and his hard work all year, and that maybe I should think on why I had never gotten anything I had asked for. I stormed off to my room, I was determined to let them know that the gig was up! 

After a couple of hours, my mom came into my room and asked if I had, had enough time to think on what had happened earlier. I told her yes, I had and that I now knew that Santa and his Elves were all just a big fat lie. She then told me that if I stopped believing in Santa and his Elves, I would be welcoming into my heart a very Evil Santa, who looked like Santa but was not Santa, he was more like the Devil and he came and punished children that stopped believing in Santa and made everyone else’s Christmas miserable. Now, this made me perk up a little, I wanted to hear the rest of this story, I mean if Santa wasn’t real and she wanted to keep feeding me that line then what would she invent next to try to make me stay in line? She told me of how when Santa was younger he had a twin brother who wanted to be Santa more than Santa could ever have imagined, but it wasn’t his birth right to be Santa, so he set out to destroy Christmas, by making all children believe that Santa was a lie, and when they did stop believeing then he came along and stole them in the night. It didn’t matter if they were good or bad, he came and stole them right from their beds and kept them locked away from their families and punished them over and over until they could no longer take it and became good children then he would either allow them to become Elves and work the rest of their lives making toys for all the good boys and girls. If they continued to insist that Santa was not real and behave badly then he would send them not back to live with their family again but to another family that would treat them badly. I laughed out loud at how silly this all sounded to me. My mom told me to watch what I laugh at and that I shouldn’t stop believing and shouldn’t make it miserable for the rest of the family because I was being a spoiled little brat. I wanted to believe in something, but it all just sounded so stupid to me. I spent the rest of Christmas being miserable and trying to be put on a face of compliance for my sisters and brother.

My grandpa had always been a wise man and I believed everything he said. So, when he and my grandma came over for dinner that day, I took him aside and asked him about what my mom had said and he looked me in the eyes and told me I was old enough to know the truth about Santa and where the story had come from and what it all meant, he told me of the man who went around giving gifts and toys to poor children and the good children and he was so good and kind he had been named Saint Nicholas and from that day on parents rewarded their good children with toys and gifts in honor of him. This made sense to me, then he went on to say that at the same time there was a man who would steal the gifts and children who were bad and take them and punish them and that he would ride with Sain Nick and if he caught a child sneaking around trying to see them he would put a spell on them and make them not see or believe anymore and then the next Christmas he would come back and steal them away from their family and make them work in the factory and never grow up and this is where the story of the Elves in the workshop came from, they were really bad children who had stopped believing and who were made to work and be happy about it. If not, they were sent to meet the Devil himself and work for him for the rest of their lives. This scared me enough to want to go to the library the next day it was open and do research and I did find old fables and stories of both Santa and a bad Santa, so I went back to believing in Santa and to this day I still believe, I would hate Christmas if I believed there was no Santa anymore. Even if you don’t believe don’t spoil it for everyone else, and don’t try to force them to believe something that isn’t true just because you do…..

That’s my colorful story for Christmas, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always Happy Writing and have a good evening and week.

This Weekend.

Well, I just checked on my Kindel Publishing account and on my Vocal+ account and I have been doing pretty good, so far, I am actually selling books and stories and articles, It is not much but I am actually doing something. It is really exciting to see the bar chart increase every week. It is so amazing that I have just started on this journey about 3 months ago and here I am writing and making money, not much, I can’t quit my job yet, but all in good time. I am looking forward to the day I can officially tell my job to shove it up their ass! I want to tell them to shove it where the sun don’t shine right now, because of all the crap that is going on, I mean one person is getting rewarded for basically calling off of work and taking half the year off and here are those of us that have been picking up the slack for them and not getting anything. It is so unfair, but then, like my mom always said, life is not fair. It is also like my Grandpa would say, those who do the right thing always get shit on! My grandpa was a intelligent man and I miss his wisdom and pep talks and his little bits of knowledge that he would impart on me from day to day. The day lung cancer took him from me will be the sorriest day in my life. I miss him so much and I will never ever forgive that so called loving God for putting him in pain and taking him from me. Where are these so called scientists? Why haven’t they found a cure for something that has been around for so long, yet they are curing something that just came out? It makes me think that the big drug companies would rather profit off of the poor and the sick and dying than release and give the medications that will cure people. It is so upsetting, and then there are those holy rollers who tell me that I should just believe in a just and loving God, but to me there is nothing Just and Loving about a God who allows wars to be fought in his name and babies to be born with deadly diseases and cancer, and takes people out in some excruciatingly painful ways like cancer. So, I have my reasons for hating this so called all loving and knowing God! How can he love us so much he can do that to us? I will continue believe in my beliefs and not in a patronizing and unjust and unloving, war mongering GOD. There is no room in my life for that so called all powerful being. 

Sorry, didn’t mean to go on a rant. I am just remembering someone so near and dear to me, and how happy and proud of me he would be right now, he is the only person in my family other than my step dad and boyfriend that are proud of me, so sometimes I really coulld use his guidance and support and feeling the warmth of his hugs and the sound of his laughter. I miss him so much and wish he could be alive to see the perosn I have become and see the major battles I have overcome to be where I am now. He would be so proud of me, and he would probably have bought about 100 copies of each of my books to show his support and how proud of me he was. My mother is just jealous that my books are doing well and her adult coloring books haven’t sold, that is the difference though, hers are coloring books and mine are books to read. People are more likely to spend $6.99 on a book to read than 12.99 on a book to color in, and half of the designs are all black and you can’t really color anyway. I’m not going to clown on my mom’s work and books, because unlike her I am proud of her for going ahead and doing something she loves and wanting to make something of herself. She doesn’t feel the same way about me though, it has been that way my whole life, she has competed with me, my whole life, why since I am her daughter? It is strange how she is, but then I don’t know why she has been that way, I have always tried to be proud of my children for their accomplioshments and not compete or be jealous of them, because in their success lies my success, because I imparted on them the work ethic and the ability to be that great person they are being. BUt hey that is my thoughts on it.

Anyway, gonna go now and finish cooking my roast. As Always Happy Writing and have a good rest of your weekend and I hope good things come to each and every one of you that reads and I thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this. I appreciate each and every one of you that does.

Mental Health Issues

Does anyone else have some mental issues? I feel like I am all alone in the things I have been experiencing. I suffer from PTSD, anxiety, insomnia, major depression and Bipolar 1. I have been trying to go medication free for a month now, and I am finding it so hard. I feel like I go 2 steps forward 3 steps or 4 steps back, especially after I go to my PTSD therapy sessions on Tuesday afternoons, it is like it throughs me into severe anxiety and depression for days, then just when I think I am getting better from it, it is time for therapy again. I have homework assignments to complete after session and it is getting harder, I have been going now for 4 weeks and I have 8 weeks to go, before this type of session is done, she says by the end of the 12 weeks I should be able to face my trauma and any other anxiety causing problems without problem and work right through them, but the more I go to this therapy and do the homework, the more I feel like I am becoming someone I don’t know and I am treating my boyfriend differently to where after 2 1/2 years together he is ready to leave me and call it quits. My psychiatrist feels I need to go back on my meds and I don’t want to go back on meds because the Veterans Admin Hospital likes to use us as guinea pigs, and I feel worse when I am on meds, but they think that I would be better and able to deal with the homework and the therapy better if I were to go back on my meds. 

I feel like I am slowly losing myself and my mind. It isn’t bad enough that my mother calls me toxic, yet I was, until she blocked me on social media and decided she didn’t want to talk to me anymore, the only child out of four she has that talks to her and does and buys things for her, but now my boyfriend of over 2 years wants to leave and go his separate ways I don;t know what I am to do. I don’t think I am a different person and yet he says I am; he says I have become an asshole the last few months and want nothing to do with intimately, that isn’t true I have been working 12 and 16 hour shifts and every day, I have been going through all this therapy and having to confront my trauma from the military and it has had me depressed, anxious and basically not feeling like I want to be around people. 

I have been dealing with things from work, there are three women that call me a bitch just because I like to stay on policy at work and with our job being security we are looked on and up to to stay on policy, I am sorry they feel they don’t have to and can get away with what they want, I am their supervisor and I may not get away with things so I feel I should make everyone who works on my shift stay up to policy, No, I don’t need to be their friend but they feel if I don’t speak to them I am being a Bitch, I don’t feel like unless I have anything to put out or to say I have to talk to them, I am their boss and don’t need to hold conversations with them, but they all talk shit about me behind my back, I am a person where if I have something to say I am going to be “man” enough to say it to your face, so when I hear they have said something before I go off I talk to them and ask them, they always say no, I heard wrong. I hate this area of Ohio I live in. They are all about themselves and make themselves look good at the cost of others. They hate to do the right thing and they love DRAMA! I am so ready to move away!

I am so hoping that one day I can make it as a writer because then I can quit working; I am thinking about going back on Social Security Disability for my mental health issues because my PTSD and Bipolar1 do stop me from being able to work and I am always dealing with issues and feeling like I am the one with the problems and flash backs are terrible especially now. I was on it before and when I moved to Ohio after my divorce I came off of it because I had to raise a child and live by myself and couldn’t survive off just disability, but now I have VA disability and I qualify for more Disability through the Social Security, so I am thinking I may have to go back on Disability, I can not deal with all these people and all these issues I am having. 

I feel so alone right now. I feel like I should just hide under a rock and not bother with society and people, period. I have felt like this before and I ended up trying to end things. I am not that far yet, but I am getting very close to it. I don’t want to seem selfish and to leave my sons without a mother, but I just feel like I can’t do anything right. I am worthless, and a failure. I feel like I am a bad person and all I do is complain and bring everyone around me and connected to me down. I feel like I am alone and I feel so lonely and it is made worse when I am told I am acting like a different person by the person I love. I have to work on holidays, and that seems to be causing a problem, I don’t cook enough, or clean enough for him and I am just tired and feel like it isn’t worth me trying because he is always comparing me to his ex or telling me I should move back to Texas and my Ex. I hate my ex and what he put me through and wouldn’t wish him on my worst enemy, so for him to say he cares about me and then say things like that, it really gets to me. I have no friends I can talk to; I used to talk to my mom and step-dad, but now my mom thinks I am toxic and she doesn’t want me around her and so, when I call my dad, he has to hide the fact he talked to me. My sons are so wrapped up in their lives that I am not even an after thought and they have a father who has told them so pretty horrendous stuff about me, to make himself look better and they believe half of what he says, so I feel like a failure as a mother. I probably sound like a whining fool and like I just need to grow up and get on with life, like everyone else does, but for me it is hard to just suck it up and move on and get on with life like everyone else, I feel things deeply and on a level most other people don’t so, for me having issues like this really cuts me down and I am not whining and feeling sorry for myself, I just feel like I had to get this out and I feel like a terrible person right now and like I should just go away. 

Sorry, if I offended anyone or if you read this and feel like I am a terrible person and like I am whining and should just grow up and carry on. Please, if you feel that way, don’t read this or comment on it, because I really don’t need to read or hear any more negativity right now.

Thanks and as always Happy Writing and have a Happy Holiday season.

New Story on Kindle Vella Episodes

Well, last night while at work I wrote a new story to add to my Kindle Vella Episodes library. I added a story about Christmas. It is called “Yule Be Sorry!” It is about an anti-Santa and his anti-Elves who send little messages to bad kids saying “Yule Be Sorry!” then they come and get the kid if they don’t change their ways that day, or they act like spoiled little brats that day. In this story the main boy doesn’t heed the warning and continues to laugh and be an ass to his brother so the Anti-Santa and his Anti-Elves come and kill the father and trash the home and take the bad kid, while allowing the mother and younger child to live because they aren’t the bad ones in the family. The Anti-Santa leaves the mother and younger child with the message that if they tell anyone what they saw or heard, they too will be sorry and he will come and take them and kill them too. The mother and younger child are left unharmed and allowed to continue on as if nothing happened. I am going to be creating a few more stories on the lead up to the BIG day, Christmas Day, so I will keep you up to date on that. 

I also want to let you know I finished my novel for NaNoWriMo, it is now published and available on Amazon. I am very proud of this work, as I had a lot to overcome in order to write the story and keep myself balanced and deal with, what with tough therapy to endure, family issues, work issues and love-life issues, it is amazing that I even wrote it. I am still struggling with all the issues, but I put all that frustration into my killing scenes in my novel. That is my way of working out my frustration and anger. 

I hope all who were or are working on their novels complete them and overcome problems and have a good Thanksgiving.

As always, Happy Writing and a Happy Thanksgiving.

Restless Leg Syndrome

It is now 1:45 am and I am standing up and trying to walk my legs because they are jumping like crazy. My left leg is the worst. All it does is jump and fidget and I can’t get any rest and I end up walking and pacing my apartment. While my boyfriend is in dream land sleeping. If I could sleep standing up then I would. It would help me a lot and I would not get these jumpy legs all the time. I am looking into some herbal and natural remedies to take that aren’t full of hormones and I can take them and stop being awake all hours of the night. I want to sleep so badly right now and yet here I am standing writing because my legs want to run a 5K marathon because I am lying down. It is so frustrating and I am always tired and grouchy and feeling so fatigued. I want to find something to take that will help me sleep and to stop my legs from jumping all over the place. I want to just have a good night’s sleep like everyone else does. It is so annoying to be standing here writing while my boyfriend is over there snoring away and dreaming pleasant dreams! Hopefully, one day I will know the bliss of a good night’s sleep, filled with pleasant dreams and not the nightmares I usually have when my legs calm down and I can then lie down and sleep. I think I am going to do the trick I used to do when I used to have this before. It was heating a glass of milk to a nice warm temperature and slowly sip it. That helped a little, but not much, but it is better than nothing at all. It was much better than this every night. Anyone else suffer from this restless leg syndrome? If you did and do what did or do you do to make it stop and let you sleep? Right now I am at the point where I will try anything once to see if it works!

This Week.

Well this week has been one heck of a week for me. I have been suffering from writer’s block, major anxiety and panic attacks. So much so that yesterday I had to call off of work. My writer’s block has been really bad to the point I am now majorly behind on my November Novel, I am not going to have it finished in time, but I may have it done by the first week in December so close enough I guess. 

I have no idea where all my anxiety and panic attacks are coming from though, I think I am putting too much pressure on myself with deadlines and I am not a deadline kind of person. I like to go with the flow and do what I can on my schedule, but I have been seeing a therapist again for my PTSD and she is stressing the fact that I need to be on a schedule to feel better, but it is just making me feel worse because I feel like I am failing because I can’t seem to stick to the schedule I come up with. I have decided that I am going to start slow and work on one thing at a time and not push myself to make so many deadlines and stick to a rigid schedule. 

So, I am going to start with baby steps and as far as my writer’s block I think I am going to try some prompts to get the creative juices flowing again. I am trying to write 50,000 words and that seems a lot so I am thinking I am going to try for a smaller number like maybe 30,000 words and then work my way up to 50,000 after a couple of books that are 30,000 long. I am thinking that I am also going to set my sights a little lower when it comes to the Kindle Vella Episodes. I am going to try and just focus on my Christmas stories episodes right now. I have one I am writing but I got stuck. We shall see how it goes right now. 

Depression.

Have you ever just felt like you were alone and had nothing to be happy about? I feel like that regularly. Today being a bad day, I suffer from Anxiety, Major Depression, Bipolar Disorder 1 and PTSD. It makes for a horrible cocktail of mental illness. I feel like no one really understands what it is like to wake up in the morning and feel happy and then by mid-day you feel like the world is ending. That was me today, it is mainly due to the fact I have a family I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. A mother is supposed to love and care and be proud of their child, instead mine accused me of stealing and when I told her of my books and how I have sold a couple so far, She just said isn’t that nice, I have 6 coloring books on sale and I haven’t sold any, it’s not fair. My aunt basically told me I stole all the photos of my grandfather today when I have maybe 3 photos of him that I took with my own camera! My mother tells me I am toxic and unhealthy for her mental health, what?! I go out of my way to buy her things and go see her and do things for her, because I have 2 sisters and a brother who have cut her off and basically have nothing to do with her, but I am toxic and unhealthy for her, more like the other way around. I have decided to write a book about my grandfather to memorialize him  and I asked my aunt and mother and uncle for memories, funny stories and photos of him and them and if they wanted to put their input in, my mother told me she would have to ponder it because my aunt and uncle were being a part of it and then she said she would want part of the royalties, What?! My aunt told me I had all the photos because I took them and she didn’t have any input to put in if my uncle was a part of the project! My uncle said he would think of some stories and memories to come up with, its about their father and they feel this way, what kind of kids are they? I hope my sons never do me this way. So, now I am writing the memorial from my perspective about him and maybe if my uncle adds something. I have also decided that I am having nothing to do with my mother and aunt any more, they are so selfish and to use my mothers word toxic. I am cutting all toxic people out of my life from now on. I really don’t know why I bother and why I try at all. What bothers me most is I let them bring me down and get depressed. I feel like a failure at being a daughter, even though I am the only one of my mothers children that have anything to do with her, well after today I wont be doing that any more. 

Now, I just feel depressed and like nothing is worth the work anymore. My mother even had the nerve to tell me that my books were bad and that they were child like, just like my drawings and art. She really knows how to hurt a persons feelings and make them question their dreams and whether they are any good at writing at all. I feel right now like nothing is worth while and I am not worthy of anything. I feel like I just need to give up and not even try any more. I hate this. When I get like this my PTSD starts acting up and I end up with nightmares and flashbacks for days and it really sucks. I don’t know what to do, because i can’t reach out to my therapist right now, because she is off for the long weekend. I feel alone right now.  

In the News today. Happy Veteran’s Day!

A near-Earth asteroid may be a fragment that once broke away from the moon.

Named Kamo’oalewa, which derives from a Hawaiian creation chant that alludes to an offspring traveling on its own, the quasi-satellite was first discovered in 2016 by astronomers using the Pan-STARRS telescope in Hawaii. Pan-STARRS is short for Panoramic Survey Telescope and Rapid Response System.

A quasi-satellites is a type of near-Earth asteroid that orbits the sun but sticks close to Earth.

 

Astronomers are saying this asteroid could be a missing piece of the moon. I don’t know how you could miss a piece of the moon as big as it is. Plus the moon looks pretty full and round to me? I don’t know about you? How can something break away from the moon and no one tell us about it until now and if it is a near-earth asteroid doesn’t that mean that at some point this asteroid could stop orbiting and crash into earth? I mean this isn’t a small asteroid we are talking about. But as I have been reading the earth has collisions with and near misses with hundreds of asteroids daily. It is a dangerous piece of space we live in that at any moment we could be taken out by an asteroid. I think money would be better spent finding ways to stop anything like that happening than sending millionaires on space trips for 21 minutes at 22 million dollars a pop, or worrying about prosecuting a liar, we have all seen he is a liar and now we want to waste tax payers money on prosecuting him? Why what good will it do, will it bring back the people who lost their lives due to him? No. Yes it will give us a sense of justice but what else? At what cost to us tax payers? I mean the best thing they can do to him would be to never allow him to hold political office again. 

 

Personally I would be more worried about these asteroids or sleeping super volcanoes around the world and trying to figure out when they will hit or explode. But that’s just me! 

 

OK, that’s my vent for the day! I want to wish ALL VETERANS BOTH AT HOME HERE IN THE USA AND ABROAD A VERY HAPPY VETERAN’S DAY!! I won’t be enjoying mine because some of us veteran’s have to work on this day, I don’t think we should have to but we do.

Here’s A Couple Of Interesting Facts For You.

Today I thought I would do another post where I highlight some more interesting facts. I love little bits of knowledge that really aren’t of any use but you can use sometime if you need to win a trivia game or just show off to someone. I love to have lit tidbits of information tucked away in my brain for later use. 

The first one is:

1. During WWII there was a Great Dane named Juliana who was awarded the Blue Cross Medal. She received this prestigious medal because to save her troops she was with she put out an incendiary bomb by peeing on it. She cared more for the humans than she did her own life. The courage of some animals!

2. President Zachary Taylor died of a cherry overdose.

1. He passed away after eating way too many cherries and drinking milk at a Fourth of July party in 1850.
2. He died of gastroenteritis.
3. The acid in the cherries along with the milk is believed to have caused this. 

3. In 1836, a pig was executed in France.

1. In the Middle Ages, a pig attacked a child who went on to die later from their wounds.
2. The pig was arrested, kept in prison, and then sent to court where it stood trial for murder, was found guilty and then executed by hanging.
3. Where is PETA when you need them, seems too like the French feel no one or thing is above the law!

I thought these were pretty interesting and a little funny in the case of the pig. Hope you enjoy these little tidbits, and i will leave you with a quote. As always Happy writing and have a good evening.

         “Don’t let what you can’t do interfere with what you can do.”

                                                                          – Unknown.

Update on my NaNoWriMo project

Well, I am here to give you an update on my novel for the NaNoWriMo. I am now at six chapters and 13, 252 words. I have only written on it twice, each time I have gotten over 5,000 words. I am very excited about this as it means I could have my novels first draft finished by the end of this week beginning of next week. That would make me extremely happy. I am happy with how my character has developed and I am now into a plot twist and subplot or my novel, I feel very accomplished having this much of it already done and still writing and feeling creative, usually I am run out of creative juices and flow by now and I end up just making it a long short story, but I am actually enjoying this novel and the writing of it and feel I am coming into my own with it. I feel like writing my short books and Kindle Vella episodes have really helped me develop as a writer and find my voice and tempo. I think I have also found my style of writing too, which I am happy about too, because I was feeling so out of place trying to follow the rules of other writers and what they say you should and shouldn’t do as a new writer. I am finding that what works for them does not work for me. I have always been that way though, what works for one person doesn’t work for me most times. So, my advice for other new writers like myself is: write how you want to, try what the “experts” say and then see what works for you, don’t think you have to be and do just what they did and do. Everything is a matter of trial and error and finding yourself and your style.

Today’s Quote

Today I thought I would do something a little different and start off with a quote and then give some news.

So my quote for today is:

                                   “The best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago, but the second best time is now.”

                                                                                                            – Chinese Proverb.

Well today is a fresh week so I am starting again on my writing plan to have at least 14,400 words written by Friday for my NaNoWriMo project. Hopefully I still have the motivation and ideas I had last week and wrote 8,000 words in one sitting. We shall see. I am not going to write too much on this post as I am going to try and start early on my writing and get quite a bit written then come back and let you know how much I managed to write in one day. I have given up on the idea of planning everything out and doing all that outlining and stuff, I just couldn’t get in the groove doing all that, so I am writing from the seat of my pants and seeing where that takes me. 

Well, take care, Happy Writing and have a good evening.

Interesting little known facts.

I have always been interested in little known knowledge and facts and so I keep them tucked away in my brain and then when playing a trivia game I clean house. I love to learn all about history and little known interesting facts. So, I have decided that once a week or more maybe I am going to post a couple of interesting facts and maybe if enough people like them then I will do this regularly. 

So here is the first interesting fact.

1. Alexander the Great was buried alive.
   1. Alexander suffered from a neurological disorder called Guillian-Barre Syndrome.
   2. Scientists believe that when he “died” he actually was just paralyzed and not dead and so he was completely aware of what was happening.
2. Ketchup was not originally used as a condiment.
   1. In the 1830’s it was sold as a medicine
   2. It was used as a cure for an upset stomach by an Ohio physician known as John Cook.
   3. It wasn’t used as a condiment until the late 19th century.
3. Abraham Lincoln is in the wrestling hall of fame.
   1. he was 6’4″ tall and had only one loss in over 300 contests
   2. He earned a reputation in New Salem, Illinois as an elite fighter.

I think those are some pretty interesting facts and pretty shocking that someone would be buried alive because they thought he was dead. And now you know what to use for an upset stomach, Ketchup.

Hope you have a great weekend. And as always Happy Writing and have a great day!

Update on NaNoWriMo project

Update on my NaNoWriMo project.

Well, I have just finished writing 8,000 words for my novel and I have two chapters written and a prologue, which ended up being more than a few lines, so i may make that chapter one. Any way, I tried to write using an outline and plan the whole novel out and I just felt like it limited my creativity and I felt stifled by it, so I just wrote out the plot and started writing, and I managed to write 8,000 words all in one sitting. I am seeing I am more of a panster than a planner. And that is fine it works for me. If an outline works for you guys, that is great, but for me just coming up with and writing down the plot and then launching right into writing is the way I go. My novel is really taking shape and I am tapping into a darker side of my imagination with this novel and I am OK with that too. I like where it is going so far and I have so much more to add to it. I’d love to hear how your NaNoWriMo projects are coming along or if you are a panster or planner.

Anyway drop me a line if you want to. As Always Happy Writing and Have a Good Evening.

The Day That Changed Everything Part 2.

I just smiled at the detective and leaned back in my chair. I wasn’t going to sit here and listen to these incredulous accusations and give them any ammunition. I was a prominent defense attorney and I would never jeopardize that by 1. bribing a guard at the prison and 2. helping a man I knew was a danger to society escape. Now, my secretary on the other hand she may just do that she had a soft spot for guys like Randall. The detective just kept rambling on and on and every so often he would try to intimidate me by slamming his fist down on the table to drive the point he was making home, but I had seen enough of these interrogations to know what he was doing and he didn’t intimidate me and I was innocent. Finally, he realized I wasn’t listening to him and got up in my face, he breath smelling like stale cigarettes, whiskey and coffee, it made my stomach churn. “Look you are looking at life in prison if you don’t stop acting innocent and start helping us, the good guys.” I tried to lean back, but I had nowhere to go. “Look if you want to arrest someone then arrest my secretary, she is obviously the one who helped Randall, why are you after me? You have no evidence tying me to the crimes you are accusing me of. I’m not some dumb kid off the streets, I do this for a living and know the law.” I looked him in the eye and said “Now when you have enough evidence to hold me then go ahead and arrest me again, but right now, you have nothing and are holding me illegally.” 

He straightened up and leaned away from me. “We have a written statement from the guard you bribed and from your secretary saying you were the one who authorized the bribe and did the bribe.” I looked straight ahead because I knew he was grasping at straws now. “Really? Show me.” He pulled two pieces of paper out of the file and slapped in front of me on the table. I looked at the top one from my secretary and sure enough it stated that she said I had told her to take out of the account $2,000 for a bribe of a guard at the prison and then told her to deposit into an account set up by that guard. Then I read the guards statement that just stated that he received money in an account he had set up, from my company account, he said he had been speaking by email only to set up the bribe and what he was supposed to do. I looked at the papers and then slid them back across the table at him and told him that these just showed my secretary was lying and the guard was communicating with someone but didn’t know who because it was always by email. “Do you have copies of these emails?” “Of course I do.” He slid the emails across the desk to me. “OK, these are from my secretaries email account, not mine. I would have used my own account because I don’t have her password to use her email account.” He looked puzzled that he had missed that important detail. “OK, so do you want me to solve your case for you? My secretary has been emailing the guard and stole the money from the account and deposited it in his account to get Randall out, now I bet if you go looking for her, you will find she has fled, or you could go look for her and find Randall.” He leaned back while this information sunk into his small mind.

He then stalked angrily from the room with the file in his hand. About twenty minutes later two officers came into the room and uncuffed my hands and told me I was free to go. “Was I right?” They just looked away like they were embarrassed about making such a dumb mistake. This is why a lot of the criminals they arrest go free, they are bad at their job and do half-ass investigations. I grabbed my things from the officer and walked out of the precinct and hailed a cab. I went back to my office and the office debit card was gone and the secretaries desk was cleaned out. I called the bank and cancelled the debit card. I then called the PI so we could look into where she would have gone. The problem with Randall was he was very unpredictable and he had a tendency to kill those who became of no use to him anymore, and I was afraid that my secretary would become another victim very quickly. After a while I left the office and walked to the elevator and made my way to the ground floor. As I walked out the security guard asked if everything was OK, I told him to turn off access to the building for my secretaries badge and if she showed up to call detective Johnson right away. He nodded he would and asked if I wanted him to walk me to my car. I told him it wasn’t necessary. I walked out to the dark parking lot and crossed to my car, which was only one of two left. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and started to get scared. I rummaged around in my purse looking for my gun, that I kept for protection. I grabbed the cold hard handle and pulled it out and hid it under my coat. 

I got to my car and unlocked the doors and put my briefcase and coat in the back seat. I then sat down in the drivers seat. I laid the gun in my lap. I looked around nervously and saw nothing moving, it must have been a cat or something. I started to relax and placed the gun on the passenger seat. I then put my seat belt on and put my hands on the steering wheel and breathed a long sigh of relief. I opened my eyes and looked up and saw Randall and my secretary standing in front of the car. He was smiling and made a sign of an explosion and then her and him ran away into the shadows. I was a little confused, what did that mean. I was tired and stressed and had been through so much that day that I wasn’t thinking straight. I shook it off as something Randall was trying to be funny about or saying he was disappearing. Then turned the key in the ignition, I heard a popping noise and smelled fuel and then all went black. 

That night on the news I was the headline. “Prominent defense attorney blown up in car bomb by secretary and Randall Mendosa.”

And so ended the nightmare day. 

I hope you enjoyed this short story and as always Happy Writing and have a good evening. 

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The Day That Changed Everything.

The day started out like any other day. There was my morning coffee brewing the newspaper laying up against the front door, my cat snuggled up to me as the alarm was going off. The sun shining through the partially opened curtains. But what I didn’t know was what the fates had in store for me this day. I crawled out of bed, hating to get out of the warm sheets, and took my leisurely shower and dressed for my day at the office. I walked in the kitchen almost tripping over Marty my cat, who was hungry and weaving in and out of my legs as I walked trying to get my attention so I would feed him. I poured a cup of food into his bowl, refilled the water bowl and then went and retrieved the newspaper from the porch. As I stood up and looked out over the front yard, I noticed that my garden gnomes were in a different spot than usual. I just shook my head thinking the local kids had been having some fun with them. I closed the door behind me with my slippered foot and walked in the kitchen checking out the front page news.

I grabbed my cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table and sipped the dark, acidic liquid, I never used to be a coffee drinker, but since starting this job, I had started drinking more and more of the nasty stuff. I wrinkled my nose at the taste and took the cup over to the counter and added some honey and stirred it in. Tasted it and thought that might work, then went back to sitting and checking out the paper. On the front page there was an article about a recent kidnapping case, and the report of a convict escaping from the prison in the next town over and killing two guards in the process. Now that was interesting, it was my job to keep those guys in prison, but no one had called me to let me know that the night before he had escaped. He was my client after all and I should have been notified, because he may come looking for me.

I called the lead investigator on the case, while I drove to my office. He didn’t answer as I knew he wouldn’t when he saw my name and number show up. There was no love lost between the two of us. He was an ass and he called me a bitch. Others thought we were kidding when we talked to each other and called each other these names, but we weren’t we really hated each other. So, it was no surprise he didn’t call me or answer my call. I left him a message to call me when he got the voicemail, then hung up. I drove all the way to the office and half way there, my phone rang and it was my secretary. She was calling to tell me that the lead detective on the escape case was at my office waiting for me and he was growing impatient. I laughed at this because I had just called him and he hadn’t answered so he was impatient, but not enough to answer my call. Traffic seemed a little heavier than usual in town when I got to the outskirts.

I stepped out of car and grabbed my briefcase and my badge and went to the office building. I badged in and walked across the foyer to the elevator. I smiled at Jim the security guard and he waved and said good morning. He was a heavy set man and I didn’t even think he could run to catch a cold let alone do anything in the case of an emergency, but it made the other employees feel safe knowing he was there. I exited the elevator on the third floor and sure enough sitting in the waiting room to my office was Detective Johnson. As I walked in my secretary smiled and said good morning and asked if I needed my calls held and my first couple of appointments rescheduled. I told her no it wouldn’t be necessary to reschedule them as my first appointment wasn’t until 10am, but to hold my calls until the detective left. She nodded and asked if I wanted coffee or water brought in for the meeting. I looked at the Detective and asked him what he preferred, he said nothing so I told her nothing.

I motioned for the detective to go into my office and I followed him in. I put my briefcase on my desk and my coat over the hanger and hung it in the small closet in the room. I then went and sat at my desk across from the red faced and impatient detective. he looked like he was getting ready to burst. “Is everything alright Detective Johnson?” He just huffed and puffed for a couple of seconds then ran his hand through his greasy slicked back hair. “OK, so you are aware by now that your client Randall Mendosa has escaped from prison and killed two guards in the process.” I nodded that I did. “Well, what you probably don’t know is that he left a note in his cell that said he would be coming after you and that he would kill whoever got in his way.” At this I looked a little shocked. “Why wasn’t I notified the minute he escaped if that was true? He threatened my life in the note and no one thought to call me? He could have came to my home and killed me and no one said anything to me?” I was livid at the thought. “No, we had a car sitting watching the house all night, we thought it better not to tell you in case you tried to leave and he caught you off guard somewhere and we wouldn’t be able to save you.” I laughed at this, the police who had basically screwed my case up and my ability to keep him from prison were going to save me from him?

“OK, so do you have any leads as to where he is now, or where he might be hiding out?” I opened up my laptop and pulled up Randall’s file. I started to look for local relatives and friends while the detective just rambled on and on about how they were doing the best they could and looking into any local contacts and hadn’t found any yet. I turned my laptop around and showed him a list of local contacts, that were police and my knowledge. “You mean to tell me you don’t have this list?” I looked a little suspicious at this look of confusion on his face. “Where did you get that?” He squinted to look at the screen and read some of the names. “Well, he was my client, it was my business to know where he would go in the event of such a situation like this and maybe have people that could help win his case.” “Can I get a copy of that list?” I hit the print button and my printer on the bookshelf across the room whirred to life and printed off three pages of contacts. He looked it over and said “Well, this will help out a lot now, if you hear from him, or he comes here call me.” With that he got up out of the chair and stalked from the room.

I watched after his back as it left the room and thought it was strange that Randall would write a note saying he was coming to kill me when I was the one who had all but gotten him out of a life sentence and only got ten years for what he had done. It was a little too convenient and suspicious. I opened up my contacts on my phone and looked for my private eye contacts number. I figured the police would be monitoring my office phone, so i pushed dial and spoke to him and told him about what the detective had said and he agreed it was a little too suspicious, especially with Randall’s temperament, he would have already been at my office if he couldn’t get to me at home. So we came up with a plan to try to find and contact him ourselves and find out what was going on.

My day went by uneventfully until 2pm when the detective showed back up unannounced. I heard a commotion outside my office door and the next thing I knew my door burst open and there stood the detective and two police officers pushing my secretary out of the way. “Arrest her, she is aiding and abetting a fugitive!” the detective all but shouted pointing his finger at me across the room. “I am what?! That is ridiculous!” I stood up in protest of the accusation, only to have the police officers pull my arms behind my back and slap the cuffs on me. Johnson then began reading my Miranda rights. He then walked out of the office behind me while one officer had one arm and the other the other arm, like I was dangerous or something.  They paraded me through the building and out to the street where there were new reporters and cameras everywhere. They started to walk slower as they started down the front steps to the building as if this was planned and detective Johnson was smiling from ear to ear for the cameras. “We will put out an official statement at the precinct as soon as we are done questioning Randall’s attorney and accomplice, nothing further.”

I was roughly pushed into the back seat of the police car and the door slammed shut on my face. I sat there looking on as cameras were pressed up against the glass and reporters feverishly took notes. We drove to the police station in silence, I was fuming by the time we got to the precinct. They pulled into the Sally port of the station and pulled me out of the back seat and walked me to the interrogation room. They plopped me down in a hard plastic chair in front of a metal table with a ring for the cuffs to be attached to. They uncuffed my one hand and cuffed me to the table. I sat there for what seemed like forever, when finally a smiling and laughing Detective Johnson came into the room holding a file in his hand. “Are you going to tell me what on earth is going on here?” “Quiet yourself down, we are holding you under arrest because we have word that you are helping Randall and you have been trying to contact him all day.” I looked at him through squinted eyes, because the only one who knew that I was trying to contact Randall was my PI. So the question now was how much were they paying my PI to talk to them and give them that information. It didn’t cross my mind that my secretary could have been the one to tell them.

“I don’t know what you are talking about. IS it wrong for an attorney to try and find and get in touch with their client especially when that client is supposedly coming after them?” “So, you don’t deny that you are trying to contact him?” “No, I’m not denying it, I want to know what’s going on and he is the one who can enlighten me, because you guys sure as hell aren’t!” I sat back in the chair as he pulled a picture from the folder and showed my secretary at an ATM taking money out, and a zoomed in picture of the card and it was my business debit card. Then they showed that calls were made from my office to Randall the morning before he escaped and a bribe to one of the officers to let him out that evening. “You honestly think I sent my secretary to take money out and then bribe and officer and help Randall escape?” I laughed at the incredulity of all that. “Well, all the evidence certainly points to that conclusion.” I leaned forward again, “If that was the case, why would he write a note saying he was going to come and kill me?”

 

This will be continued tomorrow, let me know what you think so far. As always Happy writing and Have a good evening.

I’m writing a new Novel for NaNoWriMo

Murder By The PlayBook.

I am writing a book hopefully it will reach 50,000 words for NaNoWriMo. I have never tried writing for this before so this is going to be a challenge for me. I am writing a book called “Murder By the Playbook.” It is about a female serial killer who is a journalist for a newspaper, she has been interested and studying serial killers since she was 18 and now she is 48 and has several murders under her belt and has perfected a playbook of what a perfect murder should be based on her studies of serial killers and the mistakes she made with her first couple of killings. She started killing when she was 28 when her 12 year old niece was violently attacked by a sexual predator and all he got was probation and put on the sex offender registry. So she now uses her contacts and picks her victims based on the sex offender registry and who got away with their crimes based on their sentence. She feels she is doing society a favor and this gives her the comfort and ability to keep going. She keeps up to date on forensics and this keeps her from getting sloppy and getting caught. I have decided to base this in Ohio where I live because Ohio has quite a few serial killers and murderers here over history. I also chose a female as the killer because most people think of a male when they hear serial killer but there have been a lot of women serial killers but they are not heard of as much, so i chose this for my killer. I hope to finish my planning this week and start actually writing by Saturday this week.

Is anyone else doing a novel or writing for NaNoWriMo? If you are I would love to hear what you are doing and how you plan on tackling it and how many words you plan to write. Drop me a quick message or comment and let me know. As always Happy Writing and have a good night.

New book coming soon

Well I am now working on the third book in my serial killer series. This one is going to be from Dorethea Puentes who killed her lodgers and buried them all over her property for their social security and disability checks. She Is the first woman in my series, i plan on doing 3 women and 3 men at first and seeing where that goes. I am also going to continue writing on my kindle vella stories episodes. I have several that are live and i am working on some that are scheduled and some that are in the works. I am always writing something so i will be able to post on here and on my series and stories. I have finally found my passion and a purpose for my life. It has only taken me 48 long years to realize and find this, but hey better late than never. Some people never follow their passions or find their purpose, so i am lucky i have a very supportive boyfriend who pushes me to be my best and do my best and follow my passions.

Kindle Vella Episodes now available

Kindle Vella Episodes

1st Set of Episodes

My 1st set of episodes are a collection of thriller stories and will be updated daily or weekly depending on how fast I can come up with new  stories to add. Right now I have 6 stories in the series up and running.

2nd Set of Episodes

My 2nd set of episodes which I am currently adding to are also up and running, the first one is available. It is a series of episodes dedicated to Urban and Ghost Legends of Ohio, where I currently live, this will be updated daily or weekly as I research and write about each one. 

I am planning on quite a few other episodes series, such as the witches of the Witch Trials from all over the world, each episode will be about a different Witch or presumed to be witch. Another series is going to be the unsung heroes of the American Civil War. Another will be the Women of the Civil War and another will be the women pirates through out history. I am also thinking of a lot of other ideas for the series and if they fair well I am going to turn them each into a book.

So, please go check them out and let me know what you think of them so far. I also welcome any ideas for future series of episodes. I am also thinking about highlighting and showing the episodes that do them best or a quick peek into a couple of them on here from time to time, so please feel free to go check them out and also to let me know your thoughts and ideas.

Thank you and as always Happy Writing and a good evening….

New Book In Anthology. Holmes.

New Book in Anthology

I started writing a serial killer anthology of books, all fictional of course, stories told from the perspective of the killer, like being in their mind while they are killing and how they killed and what their thoughts and thought processes were. I am going to write a six book series on amazon kindle and Barnes and noble for this. I published the first book yesterday and I started with of course, who else but Jack The Ripper, I am now writing the H. H. Holmes story. That will be book two in the series. I am not sure who else I am going to write as yet. I have a list of my “favorite” serial killers who I would like to write as if I were in their mind, but I am not sure I would do them justice. I am thinking that I might do Ed Gein next, then The green river killer or the Zodiac Killer, then Aileen Wurnos, and one other female serial killer, like Dorethea, Puente, I would love to try and get into her mind. And I am not sure who I would like my final one to be, I know I said a six book anthology, but I am leaning now more towards seven or eight, and then add on as I go through out the years. I am not sure. What are your thoughts?

I welcome suggestions. I would love to hear about little known serial killers from around the world and the USA. My next anthology is going to be an Urban Legend anthology. I like anthologies. I like to write more than one story in the same genre or the same sort of subject. I am also thinking of doing an anthology about different Witch Trials as told from the perspective of the accused Witches themselves. I am not sure. I have so many ideas running around in my brain for what I can write about it is like my brain has ADHD right now. I am writing a Writer’s Notebook and keeping track of all the ideas and then maybe I will write them all at some point, but right now I am trying to focus on one and I am not being able to do so. I have also been laying the outline down for a serial killer thriller novel, but I keep coming back to this anthology idea, so I am focusing on that right now.

I think once I am done with the series book 2= Holmes, I will concentrate more on my Novel, and then when I get writers block on it I will go to my Series books and write until I can reignite the flame of the novel. That is why I always have 2 or 3 stories and books in the works at any one time, I run out of ideas or patience for one and so I put it down for a minute and then write something on the other for a while and come back renewed to the first one. It is really helping me, that way I am not getting frustrated and I will have a steady stream of stories and ideas. I usually get burnt out on creating but I am actually enjoying this. Plus for each idea I am coming up with things to sketch about. I am also keeping a sketch book journal to go with my writers’ notebook. I am feeling very creative now that I am no longer being dulled and zombified by all the Bi-polar and Depression medication the VA was pumping into me. I feel so much more alive and myself.

Anyway, just wanted to post my latest news and maybe get your feedback on which serial killers would make the best to write as in my series. If you have any ideas for Urban Legends to write about too, that would be awesome to hear too. Anyway, please leave me some comments and feedback to help me out. Thanks. As always happy writing and have a good night!

My Jack The Ripper Story

This is the first story from my anthology of serial killers I am publishing on Amazon. I am starting with Jack The Ripper as I am from England and know the most about him and of course he is the first real serial killer and has never been identified or caught, so it is a good place to start. I hope you enjoy and i am so sorry it has been a minute between posts.

 

Jack

Jack The Ripper

My First Victim

Martha Tabram: August 7^th 1888

George Yard Buildings. White Chapel.

I walk the dirty, filth ridden streets of London, more specifically White Chapel, I repulses me all these creatures of the night trying to sell me their disease ridden rotten over used carcasses. What on earth would Me a wealthy gentleman Doctor want to sully myself with the likes of these if you can even call them women in a dark alley. It is cold tonight. I am looking for a women to practice my trade on and make these things of the night see how they are putting themselves at risk by plying their trade with all and sundry at all hours of the night, in dark alleys and in doorways, because they can’t afford to keep lodgings over their unkempt heads. I loathe these things. I don’t even consider them human. They have no feelings or emotions, if they did they wouldn’t do this to themselves and then blame us, the rich and wealthy. It is not our fault.

I pull the collar of my black cloak up around my ears as the wind is bitingly cold tonight, I have worn my extra worm black pants, winter riding boots, dark black warm gloves, but I will take those off when I find the perfect corpse to work on. Tonight it seems to be colder than usual and this damned rain just won’t let up, I should have had my carriage drive me around until I found the perfect hunting ground, but no I had to decide to leave him at the chapel at the gates to white chapel and this district of London, but that will be safer for me I think and him,  plus no one  notices me walking around or running around to get out of the rain than my nice fancy carriage they will notice that.

Well, The Buck’s Row doesn’t seem very promising tonight and so, I have heard rumor there are a lot more out of town prostitutes lodged and working the St. George Yard  Landings area around the soldiers barracks since the soldiers are there right now, more money I guess, I may get lucky. I am will head that way it is not too far from here and if they are from out of town less chance of them being identified or missed. Lifting my head ever so slightly so rain pooling in the brim of my hat doesn’t all drip into my eyes at once and I am blinded by the water and stand here looking like a fool and stubble and fall that is all I need to fall in this sess pool of a road. The cobble stones and runoffs collect all the horse waste and human waste, I hate being down here but nobody misses these creatures.

Ahhhh, now that’s what I am talking about there is a living corpse who as I can see it has been getting paid well by the garrison while they have been staying here. She is stumbling around and leaning on things, and the woman with her, I have heard mention of that brutish women called Pearly Polly. Now, to just find a somewhat dry hiding place to watch my prey and then pounce and drag her away like a lioness after the kill when she is alone and quite literally wasted off of her feet.

Standing in that alley with my little tool kit tucked under my cloak and close my body, I don’t need my tools getting all wet and dull and not working, then this will take longer than I want. This being my first I want to savor every moment. The dim street light above her and Polly is flickering in the hazy night, it is a little hard to see, with all the rain and mist and fog starting to roll in from the river Thames, it must be getting  close to early morning. I need to act before the garrison wakes and the workers in the lodging house start to rouse for work. I pull out my pocket watch it is close to 3 am, I need to get working, they will be rousing in about an hour or so, that is not much time at all, this is going to have to be quick ill savor another one when I have more time.

Ok, Polly is leaving and this one can barely stand she is so drunk. This is good for me. She is all alone, just the yellow halo of light from the street light is casting its light on her now, the moon has left and taken cover, it doesn’t want to see what comes next as well it shouldn’t. It is now picking up the pace with the rain again, I hate London, I would much rather live elsewhere, OK, now I need to focus, no more thinking about the rain or anything else. My strides are long and determined as I cross the small distance between me and her. I grab her up by the arm. “Oh ‘ello love, sorry, I’m done for the night, it’s bed time for old Martha now, come back tomorrow.” She smiled up at me with that half empty mouth of teeth and rotted gums and the foul smell of stale liquor from drinking all night at the cheap pubs wafted up to my nose, my nose shriveled up, it was putrid smelling, I no more wanted to lay with this thing than cut my own leg off.

I drug her behind me cussing and scratching at my gloved fingers wrapped tightly around her upper arm trying to get free, into the dark cover of the lodging house stairwell, this will just have to do. She was struggling and cussing. I laid my bag down and took out my sharpest and longest of blades. Her eyes grew so wide now, I thought she had seen one of the many ghosts of the white chapel area, then her mouth gaped open and the most awful pitiful screeching, ear piercing sound came from her body. I looked around light were going on, I had to do this quick, I lunged the knife into her abdomen quickly 7,8,9, 10, times, I don’t remember, I was so high and floating on air, I felt euphoric, giddy like a child on Christmas morning seeing all the presents, or after just having had the best sex of my life, this was orgasmic, to see the light and life fade from the body and as I watched the eyes of this creature.

Now was the time for me to run, I wanted to stay and watch and enjoy the sensation more, I was now addicted, I wanted to feel this again, I had to keep killing, but I had to do it better next time. Next time I was going to take my time and really make it worth my while and really enjoy the ending. I left her now lifeless body there in the doorway to the lodging house and ran into the night, no one saw me and no one would ever!

 

My Second Victim

Mary Nichols: August 31^st 1888

Bucks Row: White Chapel

It’s a cold night here in the east side of London, thankfully it is not raining on top of everything else like the last time I was out here hunting. My first attempt at my macabre events was a little non-climaxing for me. I murdered her yes, but I wasn’t able to do it slow and easy and take my time and really enjoy it like I had wanted to. This one I am going to spend a little more time on and  enjoy. Tonight I am in a foul mood, no where was my crime reported, it was delegated to the 3^rd page news, I am going to have to do better with this one. I want to be on the cover of the paper with my crimes, after all what’s the point of killing if you don’t get front page news. I’ll make sure this one is front page worthy news.

I didn’t come by carriage tonight just like last time, although I should have because there are a lot of carriages around here this time of night, but when I am done stalking and killing my prey there won’t b e that many around. It is best if I don’t bring any unwanted attention to me and besides if I want my carriage driver to know my business I would tell him, if he is here and drops me off and then picks me up and I have blood on me, he is going to ask questions and I won’t be anonymous anymore. I think he is a bit of a gossip too because he told my housekeeper he dropped me off at the chapel the other night and didn’t pick me up until after 4 am. If he hadn’t told her how would she have known? I am very careful not to let my plans be common knowledge.

I’m just wandering now, aimlessly is I’m sure what these Cretans think. Just another wealthy man looking for a fourpence visit in an alleyway. I wouldn’t waste tuppence on these women. There are a lot of women on the streets tonight. It’s around 11 pm, and usually these women are plying their craft in the ale houses trying to make enough money to be able to afford a bed for the night in a lodging house. Many of these women I won’t even waste my time on they are unworthy of my knifes blades they are so unclean. I am now walking more swiftly, a woman is approaching me and I do not want to have to speak to her or anyone, not even my intended. “Hey govna, wanna quick roll?” The woman leered at me sending me a sideways glass and flashing me a look at her stockinged legs. I visibly shuddered in disgust, this was not my quarry she would never do.

Ahhh now looking up at the Ale house here on the corner of Osborn St and White Chapel Road, this woman would do nicely, she is staggering and quite clearly drunk beyond fighting me. “Ey Mary you need to go home and sleep, you’ll catch a death out here!” An older gentleman said to her as she passed him, they seemed to know one another. Mary is her name, I guess, just waved him off, like she was swatting a fly away. It is 2:30 am now, and it is prime hunting time for me. Now to just get her to a place I can take my time with her. There is a footpath just up ahead, that will do nicely.

I slowly stalk her making sure that she doesn’t notice me following her, the chill in the air has subsided some, the fog is rolling in, in some places, here it is just getting dark and miserably dark, I can barely see anything and lights are not a priority in this part of the East End. She is stopping and holding onto the side of a building, now is my time to strike, before anyone comes along. I slowly sneak up from behind, my long blade pulled from under my cloak, the blading glinting in the moonlight, what little bit there is. I get right up behind her and quick as anything I shoot my left arm out and around her shoulders from behind to hold her. She pushes her hips back at me as if I am wanting something more than what I’m about. “No you filthy cow, I am not wanting any of you other than for what my purposes are , and you will find that out soon enough.” With that I press my blade to her neck, she tries to fight me off but she is so drunk, it feels like the feeble attempts of a babe trying to push me away. With that I kick her feet out from under her hefty body and drag her to the ground. She is on her back looking more like a fish out of water than a woman in skirts and petticoats upended, squirming around on the ground. I straddle her with my body, legs on either side of hers, and hold her hands at the wrist above her head, leaving my  blade hand free. She is shrieking now, like a banshee, I will need to cut her throat and cease this noise, if I am to stay undetected. With that I swiftly slice from left to right and he throat is gushing with blood, the metallic smell wafting up to my nostrils, I didn’t smell this with Martha, but then I was behind her and only got to stab her. As she lay there gasping for air and tying to get free, I slice open her bodice and expose her breasts to the frigid night air. Can you believe this woman has given birth to children and men actually pay to see and feel this?

She is still now, all color fading fast from her face, time to go to work, she isn’t going to struggle now. I slice deep into her chest and open her up and expose her internal organs, who would have thought these people do have hearts, I cut it free and lift it in my hand to the pale moon lit sky, it is smaller than I would have imagined, I place that on the ground, I now slice further down, into her stomach and abdomen area, I pull her uterus out and look at this small rotten looking thing, so small and used up and ugly, I place that in my tool bag, now to find and cut out a her liver, with as much as she drinks it is probably going to be small and hard and of no use to me, but it will make for a great souvenir. There it is and as I suspected, it is small and hard, I pull it out and stuff it I my tool bag wrapped in pieces of her skirts. My work is done now, I can leave this creature of the night to be found by a creature of the day. I push myself to my feet and wipe off blades on her skirts. I place them in my bag and prepare to leave.

Walking with the urge of need and pleasure I make my way back to the civilized part of London, I am getting sick to my stomach being in this part of London, I need to get out and smell the fresh air of civilization. It is now 3:45 am and I can hear the whistles of the bobbies and the pounding of their flat feet on the cobblestoned streets. Such a commotion, now maybe I’ll make it on the front page of the paper. I am getting away now to go home and bathe and get some shut eye, before the paper comes in the morning.

 

My Third Victim

Annie Chapman: September 8^th 1888

It is warm tonight warmer than it has been, I am tired, I just got off of the ferry from my trip to France, while I there I got to see up front and personal how murder is supposed to be reported. My crimes here in London have not made it big news yet, Mary was on the front page, but not as a headline, I am going to have to step up my game to make this front page breaking news, maybe taunt the bobbies and inspector a little this time around. But tonight, I need to worry about the task at hand. I am feeling a little bit bare out here in the streets, because it is so warm I am having to walk around without my cloak on for concealment. I still have my small tool bag, but, if it is going to be warm like this I am going to get noticed if I have a doctor’s bag walking around L:ondon at night. Doctors here don’t make house calls.

I am still keeping my head low and looking under the brim of my top-hat and I still have my black leather working gloves on, but today I have chosen to go with my walking shoes rather than my riding boots, it is too warm for boots tonight. I am going to have to be on the look out tonight because there are more bobbies patrolling the white chapel area. Guess I should have waited a couple more days before I decided to come out and work. But I just spent the most incredible week learning new techniques in France and I want to try them out. I can’t put it off, I am in need of a corpse to work on. The cadavers they give us at the medical college are so old and stiff and have been drained of fluids it is like working on a mummy, it is nothing like working on the real thing. That is why I hunt.

Tonight is like any other night here in White Chapel, the drunks and prostitutes are out, fighting and caterwauling,  and making a general nuisance of themselves. The men and women are fall down drunk and tonight I am out a little bit later than I would want to be, but still kind of early. It is only midnight and already, the lodging houses are getting full. These women through here are getting in fights more often. I like to look for ones that have marks to show they are not the best fighters and can be easily over-powered. The Ale Houses are always a good place to start.

I have been walking around now, for the better part of 2 hours and so far I haven’t seen anything. I see women sleeping in the alleyways, but I don’t want my prey to start off asleep, I want a little bit of fight and the blood to pumping around the body a little bit. Plus I love the feel of total release when they fight and finally realize they are not going to win. What about those women over there, they have caught my eye, there are two of them, they are exchanging words, one has a big mark going down the side of her face like she recently had a fight. Looks like she got the worst of it though. She is slurring her speech and cussing and throwing wild punches at the air around the other woman’s head. The younger woman just walked off, now to follow this one and see what happens.

She is turning down an alleyway, I stealthily make my way making sure to avoid the light and to stick to the shadows, over to the entrance of the alleyway. So, he has just paid for his quick roll in the alley way. I will catch her as she is fixing herself afterwards. Ok that was fast, well both of them are drunk, he is walking away now, cussing under his breath. I guess something must not have happened. She is bent over fixing her stockings, it is now time to strike. Lightning fast I slide up behind her, just like before I wrap my left arm around her shoulders as she straightens up and hold her to me, while I press the freshly sharpened blade to her neck. She hasn’t screamed or tried to get free, she is calmly accepting her fate.

I make to get her to the ground, as she hits hard on the ground, I drop her head and shoulders and she hits her head and starts cussing me. Now, I am getting mad, but I will not let her phase me, I need all my wits about me and to have a level head to do what I am going to do. As before I straddle her thighs and raise her hands over her head, I then press the blade to her neck and slowly this time I draw it across cutting as I go. She is screaming, but as soon as I put pressure on the blade in the middle of her throat and cut her windpipe, she is silenced. Blood is spirting out of her arteries on either side of her neck. I move back a little so as to not get any on me. I do not need to blow my cover and not be able to walk away from here under the guise of night. With this one, since she is smaller of build I am going to start with her abdomen first and cut her up from there. In this one the uterus looks like it has given birth recently, her insides are also looking like she is sick and suffering. I am saving her from the streets and from her illness by putting her out of her misery and taking her retched life. I take the uterus as before and the liver, if you can call this brick a liver. I wrap them in the pieces of skirt I have ripped from her and then I take out her heart and place it in her hand and tilt her head to look skyward before I stand to admire my work.

I clean off my blades and my gloves on her skirts and I pick up my tool bag and stand reveling in my work. It is truly a work of art. It is beautiful. This will make the front page as a headline I am sure. It might take a little longer for this one to be found, she is in a yard behind a lodging house, but by morning she will be found, but by then I will have made my clean get-a-way and be safe in my home, eagerly waiting on the newspaper to arrive. Hastily I walk hat pulled low over my eyes to escape White Chapel, I hate the smell of it here when I am not hunting. I seem not to notice it when I am hunting but as soon as I am done and made my kill I notice the foul odors everywhere.

 

My Fourth Victim

Elizabeth Stride: 30 September 1888

Dutfield’s Yard, White Chapel

The rain is coming down in small showers here and there tonight, the fall showers are here. The air is thick with the stench of horse dung and cheap ale. All around Berner street, my hunting area tonight, I see women staggering around drunk off of the ale and luring men into the alley’s for a fourpence tussle. Some are smiling their toothless smiles exposing decaying gums from the poor hygiene and the sickening ale they drink. They are plying their wares with these unfortunate men, who work hard for their money. What manner of diseases do these women carry and pass on. Being a doctor I see all kinds of diseases come through my office. Some are so bad that they can kill a man, even a healthy man and where does one catch those diseases, from these unclean whores plying their wares in the streets and taverns here in White Chapel.  I must rid London of this scourge. That is why I hunt these creatures at night and take them down one by one, I won’t stop until they are all gone and London is made clean again.

OK back to business. I haven’t seen any viable candidates as of yet tonight, but it is still early, it is only midnight, I still have a couple of hours before my night is over with and I will have to come back tomorrow night. I wish this lousy weather would give up just a bit though, it makes my job harder, but then again easier, it washes away any trace of me, but it keeps these creatures of the night inside more. There is bound to be one that ventures out tonight, I just have to keep walking around and looking. I have lightened my tool bag because I realized I only need maybe two of the tools I was carrying around with me. So now it is lighter under my arm and I switched to my smaller bag and it is easier to conceal under my cloak. There are some women hanging out in the overhang of a tavern on the other side of this street, they are not quite drunk enough yet, but they are getting there. I see one that has taken my fancy.

She is taller than the others I have taken on before so this should be an exercise in strength and toughness for me, I am not going to be hunched over so I wont have the leverage I have had with the others, but that doesn’t mean I wont be able to do it. I am a man after all. She has the curly red hair I like means she is a fiery one. She is slender probably because she is sick with something and she doesn’t know it. They all are. The last one was sick with pneumonia and syphilis after I examined her and her liver was hard as a rock so she was going to die soon anyway. This one looks like she may be on her last legs so to speak with an illness too. When I get her organs back to my lab I will see for sure. OK, she is on the move.

I am keeping to the shadows like always, stealthily maneuvering around these drunken braggards, they are bumping into me and breathing all their filth in my face. I pull my cloak up around my face to shield myself from these vermin. Another one, just bumped into me and staggered away shooting me a look like I was the one who bumped into him. What filth, they need to just come through and exterminate all of these vermin. “Oi, watch it govna!” Another one just staggered into me. I am getting sick and tired of this, I may have to change up and kill one of these men if they keep bumping into me. No, I can’t do that, its not their fault they aren’t thinking clearly, full of disease and liquor from these Taverns and filthy tramps on the street. Where did my lovely go? Ahhh, there she is standing at the opening to the Dutfield’s Yard. There are no lights in that yard, it will make for a nice long interlude with my beloved trophy for tonight. She is still standing there holding onto the gate post, she is just where I want her.

Go on now, keep going, you know you want to go inside and seek shelter from these autumn showers. My smile is widening at the thought of what her innards will look like and what her beating heart will look like in my hand as I cut it out and hold it for its last beat. I am getting giddy with excitement. Am I wrong for feeling this way? No, I am doing a service to London and my queen, and the fact that I am enjoying it is a plus. There she goes, she is heading inside the yard now. That’s a good girl. I don’t want anyone to come upon me and you while I have my way with you. My knives are sharp and ready for the quest ahead. Slowly I cross the cobblestoned road to the open gate of Dutfield’s Yard. I slink inside like a cat stalking a mouse. She is sleepy and falling over a bit now, just a little further inside and I will make my attack. That’s it my lovely you find you somewhere dry and warm to sleep off you busy night. I’ll help you sleep for a long time.

Finally she is far enough inside that I can make my attack. She is laying on a bag of grain and curled up trying to pull her moth holed wool cloak around her for warmth. I look down at her closed eyes and in that what would have been a pretty face a decade ago were it not for all the drinking and carousing she has been doing to try and pay her way. Oh, well, no time to feel sorry or lament on what happened to make this woman a creature of the night. I kneel down at her side, I can see her outline and face clearer now. She is a pretty woman, it is a shame she has to come to this, but it needs to be done. I lay my tool bag down beside her and slowly trace her cheek with my gloved hand. I smile as she is definitely a trophy, I just hope the news and pictures do her justice as I am going to do my best to do. She looks a lot like my sister when she was younger, maybe that is why I have chosen this one out of the three at that tavern tonight.

I open my bag careful not to disturb her slumber. I take out my bade and let it glint in the moonlight as I bring it down across her throat. She doesn’t even open her eyes, I take her out so fast. I slice her chest wide open and there is my trophy for this one, her heart is about to stop beating. I must cut it out and feel that last beat in my hand. Ahhhh that is bliss, that is what makes this all worth while feeling that last life beat out of the heart. OK, no more delaying I must take what I came for and go. Someone will find us soon, it is starting to get lighter in the sky and the carts will start moving around soon. I slice out her womb and take her kidney and heart, I place them all in my bag. As before I clean off my knives on her petticoats and wrap up the organs in a portion of the petticoats I have cut. I stand up and look around, no one will find her back here in the grain area, I must move her to where she will be found. I drag her now lifeless corpse out into more of an open area, and lay her out. She sure is a beauty and my work is impeccable. I must go now. Quickly I walk out of the yard being careful to make sure no one notices me. I have gone no more than a thousand yards when I hear a frightened horse in the yard and the cart rider trying to calm it down. It must have found my trophy.

I hear the whistles and yells for Doctor and Police coming from all over. I clutch my bag closer to my chest under my cloak, the rain is coming down a little harder now, as if the heavens are crying for its lost angel, she sure did have the face of an angel when I left her. I have my prize. Now if they do not run me as the cover story I am going to make sure I get their attention. I go home and take a nice long warm bath and put away my trophies for tonight and eat me some bread and butter and a glass of wine and take a few hours rest. I am awakened by the curtains to my bedchamber being opened and the crashing of my breakfast plate being put on my table in my room. It is morning, and I can hear the paper boys calling out the news headlines on the corner of the street. I listen for a minute before I open my eyes, nothing about my killings. Ok this calls for desperate measures. If I am going to keep happy at my nightly quarry hunt I need for it to be published in the paper as a headline.

I wake and get out of bed, clean myself up and dress, I eat my breakfast and take out my pen and paper and sit at my desk to write the editor of the paper a letter about my crimes and tell them more will come, a lot more if I am not featured on the front page as headline news. After I seal the envelope with a drop of candle wax, I take my carriage to the newspaper building and I have my driver take it into the office with strict instructions to make sure it gets to the editor and no one else. After that is done we go about our daily errands. I don’t have any patients today so I am going to go back to my lab and run tests on my latest trophies.

 

My Fifth Victim

Catherine Eddowes: 29 September 1888

Aldgate High Street: White Chapel

This was my victim the same night as my fourth victim. I happened upon her as I was walking home from my fourth kill. She bumped into my and didn’t apologize and called my a profane name. I was still high from my kill and just wanted to get home before I was caught up in all the commotion. Her rude demeanor towards me and the fact that she called me a profane name after she staggered into me on the street just made me see red and all I wanted to do was see her blood dripping off of my knives and to feel her heart beat its last beat in my hand. It was already getting light so I wouldn’t have time to take my time and stalk her like I did my others, but she deserved what I was going to do for her presumptuous nature of calling an English gentleman an offensive name. A woman should not speak profanity and she definitely should not speak it towards an English Gentleman such as myself. She must be taught a lesson and quickly.

She was hurrying away from White Chapel and not as intoxicated as my usual quarry, she must not have been out all night, like the rest and judging from her direction she was coming from the police station. No matter she was rude, profane and in need of a lesson in manners. Am I am just the person to teach it to her. I can already hear the commotion over my last kill getting louder I need to stop her before she gets any closer to it, as I would most surely get caught, killing that close to my other. But that would be the fun of it too. My adrenaline was surging now, I could almost taste the metallic smell of blood in the air as I drew up behind her and drug her into a doorway and pressed my knife to her throat. She wanted to scream out I could tell, but she knew if she did it would be over. This was a smart one. We got to the cover of the doorway and she began to plead with me for her miserable life. A sneer took hold of my face, she smelled like putrid ale and vomit. She had not taken a bath or washed in many days, my stomach begins to roil I have got to do this fast as the smell of this one is making me nauseous.

I can hear footsteps coming now, too late to take what I want so I am just going to kill her and leave, she doesn’t deserve the pleasure of being among my trophies anyway, she is too vulgar for that. I slice her across the throat and then as she falls I stab her over and over in her stomach and chest. I hear the last gurgle leave her throat and her chest has quit rising and falling o I know she is dead. My time with this one is short but I did what I came to do. I cut a piece of her petticoat as always and wipe my gloves and shoes and blade off. This petticoat is so dirty I am not even going to keep this, so I toss it aside as I stroll away into another doorway. Let them find it I don’t care they can’t tie me to it in anyway. I stroll faster now back to my street and house, I need a bath to get the stench of this last kill off of me.

There is my symphony of escape the whistles and yelling for a doctor and police. It has become my theme music to run away to. But I don’t run I just walk and blend in with the crowds, even though I am going in the opposite direction to them. I give it these people they do love a good killing spree and killing site to watch the bobbies work. That chief inspector is really stupid really, he doesn’t look for anyone out of the ordinary in the crowd or ask the crowd if they saw anyone out of the ordinary hurrying away.

 

My Sixth Victim

Mary Jane Kelly: 9 November 1888

Millers Court: White Chapel

Tonight I am going to do something a little different, I think after they published about me and said that I scrawled in white chalk that nonsense about Jews above my last victim I am going to do this in a more private place and actually take my time and really do a good job. I did not write that total nonsense above my last victim, someone must have come along after me and wanted to take credit for the scene of my last victim, which I don’t care she wasn’t worth my time anyway. I did send the editor another note with a piece of my fourth victims kidney wrapped up just to push him to publish me on the front page, and guess what it worked like a charm, he even published my letter. I like the name they have for me “Jack The Ripper” it has a nice ring to it, but I am more surgical and precise than a ripper. But a ripper none the less.

So tonight is going to be special, it is my last victim before I make my escape from London, I am thinking I am going to go to America and start a living there as a surgeon and maybe even continue my craft of “Ripping” as they like to call it. I am in the lodging house district of White Chapel, I am looking for a ground floor room where the woman is home and I can make my way in and take my sweet time with her. There aren’t that many that are home this hour, it is only ten at night, only the sick or the ones who have worked all day are home, so I might be looking for a little bit. There are so many of these lodging houses and they are so close together, I don’t want one too close to anything else as I don’t want anyone to hear her screams.

OK, there is a promising room just ahead on the right, it is next to the stairs to the upper levels, but it is early enough that no one will hear anything and the carousing from the Tavern across the way will drown out any cries and screams, so it will be a good room and it is occupied. I must go up to see what this angel of mine looks like and see if she is worthy of becoming one of my lovelies and trophies. After all she is my last on this continent, it must be a good one. She must be worthy of my blades and time. Ah, yes she is definitely a site to behold walking around the bare room in her petticoats. But, what is this a man? Who is he? “OK Mary, I’m heading off to work the port, I’ll be home in the morning, stay here keep warm and I will see you in the morning my love.” Oh, so this lovely has a boyfriend or husband, that is rare, she must be new to the game.

I stand in the stairs just around the corner and out of site as I watch the young man leave and lock the door behind him. Well, now that just wont do, locking me out, oh well, I will make my way in one way or another. He is gone around the corner and out of site, the candles are being blown out now, so all I see is the light from the fire that is burning in the hearth in the room. Mary as he called her is lying in bed now, the thread bare blanket pulled up over her tiny frame. She is young and vivacious, this is definitely my best trophy and angel of them all. She is pretty too. Look at how soundly she sleeps not knowing what is about to befall her. I must be quiet and gain entrance to this room. I scan the front windows of the room and I notice that the window pane next to the door handle has a hole in it. Well, now someone was looking out for old Jack now weren’t they?

I slowly reach through the hole being careful not to catch my sleeve or glove on the broken glass and silently and slowly unlock the door. I then go to the door and open it. I slide in keeping to the shadows of the room, pressed up against the wall I close and lock the door behind me, don’t want anyone to come in and disturb me and my lovely. I stand transfixed by the creature lying in the bed sleeping so soundly. This is definitely going to be my crème de la crème. I take my cloak and hat off and set it on the small table and slowly remove my black leather gloves, being careful not to make a sound and disturb my beloved. I then take off my jacket and loosen my tie around my neck. I stoke the fire and place the small cooking pot over it and put some water in it to boil, I think this one I will boil her heart and drink of the warm inviting fluid while I work, but for now I am heating water to make me a drink, I am feeling quite parched for some reason. I drink the tea I make while sitting in the chair at the table watching this beauty sleep. I can’t believe I am going to deprive the world of this wondrous and beautiful creature so soon, before she has had a chance to make a mark on the world. She could be anything she wanted to be why would she choose the life of a whore? What kind of life could she have had to make her think this was her only option? Oh well, no matter, I am going to make her famous now with my craft and my skillful blades. Tomorrow morning I will read the paper and eat my breakfast and then make my way to the train so that I can go to Liverpool and make my ship to America. But I am getting ahead of myself, I must not lose focus and I must concentrate on the task at hand.

I finish my tea and rinse the cup in the small bucket of drinking water and pour some more into the pot over the fire that is now starting to boil again. I look over my shoulder at the beauty that awaits me, she is murmuring in her sleep, her soft lips moving with the words. If I were another man I would definitely want to kiss those lips and want to be the owner of that curvaceous and sensuous body, but I am going to own it in another way and show its true beauty to the world. I stir the water in the pot once more, then roll up my sleeves and cross the room to where my bag lies on the table. I retrieve my long blade and place it on the bedside table, then I retrieve my other working blades and place those by that blade, in order of use. I take the two small bowls from the table and place them next to the blades, they will hold my precious cargo while I work. I then place the little wooden box that has white linen inside next to the table, it is the most important part of tonight.

I run my smooth, beautifully manicured fingers over her soft, delicate, porcelain white skin. She truly is a beauty. I smooth out the curls that are tousled at her neck I don’t want to mess up her delicious brown curls by cutting them with my blade. She stirs now, feeling my fingers sliding across her cheek. Her eyes flicker open in the fire lit room, she sees me and a look of shock registers on her face. She opens her mouth to scream but I clamp my hand tightly over it. I am sitting on the bed beside her now. I lean closer to her face as she squirms to get free, I place my index finger of my other hand to my pursed lips and say “Shhhhh, if you are good and don’t make a noise this will be quick, but if you make noise and I have to hurry then it will be agonizing slow and painful.” She seems to realize who I am and that I mean what I say. She stops struggling and lays there, her wide eyes looking intently into mine with more of a pleading look than a shocked look now. “That’s a good girl. Isn’t it better to just play along and do as you are told. I’m sure with the profession you are in you are used to doing as you are told, am I right?” She goes to open her mouth again, I shake my head NO. She stops.

I take my cutting blade off of the table and it glints and sparkles in the light of the fire, I place my finger tip on the end and twirl it in my hand gazing at it and the way the light is dancing off of its surface. “She’s a beauty is she not, and sharp as a razor.” For a moment I am caught up in the beauty of my blade and don’t notice Mary sliding away from me on the bed and trying to make her way, away from me. She seems to think I am too captivated to notice her shrink from my view, she bolts for the door, I grab her by the hair and throw her back against the bed. Now she has angered me and when I am angry I do not think clearly. I take the blade and stab her in the stomach. She gurgles and lays quite still on the bed. Now she aroused the beast in me and my anger, no more going slow. I slice through her smooth alabaster colored neck clean to the bone, her head tilts to the side blood pouring out on to the bedding. I take and I slice her cheeks and face a couple times. “That is for making me lose control, I wanted us to go slow, but you had to make me angry.” I then slice her all the way from neck to groin. Her night shirt falls away to each side. I slice off one breast and place it in one of the bowls, then I cut out her heart and I walk to the pot and throw it in, no longer do I want to taste its sweet nectar, I just want it to boil to nothing. I then cut out her unused womb and place it in my box. Next I take and cut out her liver and throw that in my box. Then I take her stomach and slice it clean open and the contents spew out into her abdomen cavity. Then I take and slice through her lungs and pull her innards out and throw them to the side of her. I take the small towel from the back of the chair as I stand up and admire my masterpiece.

There is blood everywhere, I must really look a fright. I know I am covered in blood from head to toe, good job I thought to roll up my sleeves and take my jacket and hat off. I wipe my arms, and face off on the towel and then my blades and place them and the small wooden box back in my bag on the table. I then take the items from the bowls one at a time and wrap them in part of her night shirt and place them in my bag. I feel I am ready to go now, I put my jacket and cloak back on and my hat and depart the room. Satisfied I my art and masterpiece. I reach through the hole again and lock the door as if I was never even there. It is now close to two in the morning I would assume from the position of the moon in the sky. I duck my head down and slink off in to the shadows and make my getaway. Clutching my precious cargo close to my chest. Mary won’t be found until morning when either the lodging keeper or her boyfriend come around. I have plenty of time to make my way home, get changed and to the train station, with my carry bags of trophies. And with that my time in London is done, on to bigger and better in America. Still uncaught and no one will ever know who I am.

My Book is on Sale

Well, I am so happy and proud of myself. I have now got a book on sale on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

My book Survivor is available in paperback on Amazon since I have to fix my kindle version and my book is available in nook and paperback versions on barns and Noble. I am so happy and proud. It is an accomplishment for me.

I would never have thought this day possible, and with all that I say in my book, I think a day will come when someone else won’t think it is an accomplishment but a work of Fiction, but no one remembers the same thing the same way, so how I remember things is just that how I remember them. I don’t ask that you agree, I just ask that you read and see it for what it is a form of therapy and self-help to get it all out in the open and off of my chest, so I can move on and forward and start living my life top the fullest.

My Book Is Available on Amazon Kindle

I have finally finished my book “Surv;vor” It is now available on Amazon Kindle as of October 12th and in paper back now. I am so happy and excited for this. It is an accomplishment for me. I have been working on this now for the better part of the last 7 months and I feel like my child has finally grown up and left the nest now that I have published this on Amazon. I feel like I have really done something, I would never have seen myself doing this last year even, not to mention for most of my life, but here I am a self-published author now. It is a real accomplishment and I feel a real sense of pride. I am so happy and I only hope now, that others see it as an accomplishment for me, because of what the contents are. It was hard to write and I had to really battle some demons and doubts as to whether I should, but I did it. My demons were the issues I put out there in the public eye of what I have had to overcome in my life from other people have done tome starting in childhood. But I am happy and feel like a weight has been lifted and I can finally accept myself for who I am and know that these things made me the strong person I am today.

 

So please go  online and pre-order my book from the Amazon Kindle store.

Survivor by Louise Jackson