you tubing it

     Hi, my name is Angela and welcome to my first youtube vlog! I am a writer who is trying to get her stuff out there and so I thought maybe this is just another level of doing that. If the “Beiber” can get discovered on Youtube then I thought why can’t I at least use it to my advantage to be heard, as well. There were several things I wanted to discuss and I will probably go through all of my list, eventually. However, I feel compelled to speak on one thing right now and I even open up my channel for comments and questions below. I, like my taste in music, am not tied to one genre or the other when I write so my vlog will be the same. I have also added a link to my blog below as well so feel free to peruse that as well. If nothing else I know it can give you some really great writing ideas!

Before I dive into what I want to talk about let me tell you a little about myself. I am 40 years old a wife and a mother. I grew up in Arkansas and no need to make jokes (I’ve heard them all) I am a Southern Belle in every sense of the word. Well, what I think of as a Southern Belle. I know, I know when you think of Southern Belle you think of Ball Gowns and high heels, perfectly manicured nails and hair coifed to perfection. mint juleps on a hot summer night and a delicate fan I use to fan myself. But there is another type of Southern Belle and fortunately, I fall into that category. One that would rather play in the mud than wear a dress. One that has more guy friends than girlfriends. One that wears daisy dukes and cowboy boots. And doesn’t give a damn what others think of her. one that would rather drink moonshine and whiskey than any ol mint julep. That is what a southern belle is to me. And I am proud to be one. I grew up in a south that churns out tomboys like water Where cotton fields as far the eye can see is nature’s backdrop and there is always at least one car up on blocks in my tiny town (where everyone knows everyone) that is almost imperceptible due to the unmowed yard. That is what I grew up with. Not to mention I grew up with an abusive mother and step-father that still to this day has never truly seen me. Despite this ever since I can remember I have wanted to be a writer. Ever since I could legibly write my own name a passion was born. I was 5. I voraciously read everything and anything I could get my hands on and by the time I was 13 I was sneaking my mother’s romance books and reading those as well. Needless to say, it was very educational and my vocabulary became quite extensive for a 13-year-old.

I grew up in the Bible belt. I went to church and by the time I was 16 I was a very confused young girl. my mother would go on and on about how everything I did I was going to hell over and yet, she would beat me  I went to a Pentecostal church which was in an old run down strip mall just the other side of the train tracks. Yes, I was a Pentecostal or “holy roller” if you will. People would speak in tongues and then someone else would suddenly have the gift to interpret what was being said. One day someone began speaking in tongues right in the middle of the service that lasted about 15 minutes. When they were done the pastor himself came over to me and laid his hands on my shoulders and said: “That was for you, it was God speaking through her to let you know you are one of his chosen, one of the people he has chosen to spread his word”.  As he smiled down at me I almost laughed in his face. How could I be called to preach by God himself when I didn’t even know if I truly believed in him. Being that I was just trying to survive my hypocrite of a mother. Yet, I had witnessed with my own eyes the speaking in tongues and knew there was a higher power at work. I knew there was a God and yet, I was so confused about religion, God, all of it. Which would I would carry into my adult years if only for a brief time.I would in the next couple of years be exposed to all kinds of religions and I gotta say it helped me form my opinions I still cherish today. 

   I, later on, had some experiences with God himself ones that changed me forever. Letting me know no matter what I believe, he does exist. I grew up being told never question the Bible everything in it is fact, it is the first book in recorded history. It is blasphemous to question God’s word. I was okay with that, for a while. Until I met my very best friend. Who is not only the one person in all of my life that has encouraged me to write but she also opened up my mind to the possibility that while yes the Bible is recorded history, it doesn’t tell the entire story of our past! It hints at things here or there but not the whole of our past is in there. I once again became voracious for answers I read anything and everything I could get my hands on about God, religion, and our past. It is human nature to questions things and there is that one question that looms over us all and the one question I am sure every single one of us has asked ourselves. Where do I come from?

   This is the purpose of my Vlog today. I feel compelled to share with all of you what I have learned and what I know in my heart is true. I am no expert mind you, I am just your average American woman that has had a long relationship with God. One who has just begun to read between the lines of what the Bible actually says and it is mind blowing. You know it is funny I used to be told you can read the same verse in the Bible twenty times and get something different out of it every single time. I never believed it until now. Maybe I have come full circle and the preacher in me has finally emerged or maybe the writer in me feels the need to share. I believe that God gives us all talents (most people that have met me would say I have the gift of gab) but I truly believe my gift is the gift of writing. I have been writing various things over the past couple of years yet, something or someone (point up) has been compelling me to use my talents to write about what I have found, and so I am. I want to thank my friend I believe in my heart of hearts she was placed in my path for this very reason. To get me on the path of what I am supposed to be doing she has no idea that her prompting me to do what I was born to do has released my damaged soul. It has given me a peace I have never known so thank you dear friend of mine.

First, thing I want to discuss is the word religion. It used to be something sacred to me. Yet, as I got older and became more aware of the world I realized that word has been reduced to nothing more than business. You ever notice that. I know what I believe and I know I don’t ever remember reading about a rich religion in the Bible. It has become an organization a crutch to steer us away from the really important things.  I learned long ago, I am not Pentecostal, I am not Catholic, I am not Baptist, I am not a Jehova’s witness. Labeling myself, a religion isn’t what is going to get me to the pearly gates. It is believing in something more than myself, it is being kind to others, it is loving thy neighbor even when they don’t deserve it. I can do all of these things without a label. Religion has become an institution and I am not one to be institutionalized. Conformity is not the key to heaven.

This also ties into the other thing I want to mention. I was raised the Bible is it. It is the word, the only word. I was raised as if God himself had brought down the Bible on a cloud from the heavens and plopped it into someone’s hands and said, “go now copy this for everyone.” I have since learned that this is not the case. The Bible in a funny twist of irony was written by man. It was certain apostles and ‘chosen people to write their story and write accounts of what they saw. It was then another religious faction that put the books of the Bible together and decided amongst themselves what the rest of us should be believing as they left out several books. Not just several by my count there are over 300 books of the Bible that were left out of what we now know as the Bible today. Why would they do that? Knowing how curious humanity is why would they leave out key points of the origins of humanity. I can only think of one reason to conform us all to their way of thinking. Because even when humanity was just peeking out and making their mark on the world “religion” was a business. A business they intended not to lose. There have been wars fought, people killed, blood in the streets, children dying in their mother’s arms, whole cities wiped out, and for what, the sake of their religion, or their business? I can tell you now, God doesn’t care what religion you label yourself. Because in the end, that is not what gets you eternity in his house.

Back to the Bible, I have read it not all of it but enough to know there are in fact pieces missing. The big one being that Angels walked among us. This is where the crack in all I had ever believed in began to show. This is the moment that my viewpoint became slightly skewed and believe me once you fall down this particular rabbit hole there is no going back. So turn away now if you don’t want your world rocked on its axis because once your mind is blown there is no going back. Although the Bible doesn’t go into detail about the Angels too much there are scriptures that allude to the fact that they were here and even laid with mankind to produce offspring called the Nephilim. In the King James Version of the Bible, the word Nephilim is never used however there are scriptured alluding to the fact that they did exist. My favorite scripture in the Bible is in

NUMBERS Chapter 13 verse 32 and 33

 

32. AND THEY BROUGHT UP AN EVIL REPORT OUT OF THE LAND WHICH THEY HAD SEARCHED UNTO THE CHILDREN OF ISRAEL, SAYING, THE LAND, THROUGH WHICH WE HAVE GONE TO SEARCH IT, IS A LAND THAT EATETH UP THE INHABITANTS THEREOF, AND ALL THE PEOPLE THAT WE SAW IN IT ARE MEN OF A GREAT STATURE.

33. AND THERE WE SAW THE GIANTS, THE SONS OF ANAK, WHICH  COME OF THE GIANTS: AND WE WERE IN OUR OWN SIGHT AS GRASSHOPPERS, AND SO WE WERE IN THEIR EYES.

These two verses prove these “Giants” were in fact Nephilim. My friend said her mind was blown when she had a discussion with someone about how vengeful God was in the Old Testament. He would send people to cities to wipe them out entirely man, woman, child all of them. At first, she didn’t believe them and being raised as I was said it was blasphemous but then she began to read the Bible with new eyes and realized her friend was right. But why? Why would God be so vengeful as to wipe out children for no reason? Then it clicked to her. These cities weren’t filled with humans, they were filled with the abominations of these angels the product of the Angels laying with humans. Now, I read recently that the scripture above is a metaphor for political “Giants”. What? My God doesn’t care about politics. He cared about the Angels screwing up his creation! And so he began the task of ridding the earth of such atrocities. The scriptures above are just a glimpse into just one of the cities God sent man to destroy and while they were doing recon they realized how huge these creatures were. It goes on to say that they brought back with them Grapes so big several men had to carry them. How can you make that political? It sounds like something straight out of a movie right? I ask you though if these creatures these “giants” were a metaphor for a politcal giant why was their food so large?

Another scripture further proving this theory is In Genisis Chapter six verse 1-4

 

GENISIS 6: 1-4

  1. AND IT CAME TO PASS, WHEN MEN BEGAN TO MULTIPLY ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH, AND DAUGHTERS WERE BORN TO THEM. 
  2.  THAT THE SONS OF GOD SAW THE DAUGHTERS OF MEN THAT THEY WERE FAIR; AND THEY TOOK THEM WIVES OF ALL WHICH THEY CHOSE. 
  3. AND THE LORD SAID, MY SPIRIT SHALL NOT ALWAYS STRIVE WITH MAN. FOR THAT HE ALSO IS FLESH: YET HIS DAYS SHALL BE AN HUNDRED AND TWENTY YEARS.
  4.  THERE WERE GIANTS IN THE EARTH IN THOSE DAYS; AND ALSO AFTER THAT, WHEN THE SONS OF GOD CAME UNTO THE DAUGHTERS OF MEN, AND THEY BARE CHILDREN TO THEM, THE SAME BECAME MIGHTY MEN WHICH WERE OF OLD, MEN OF RENOWN.

 

The son’s of God lay with the daughter’s of man, and they bare children of them. Wow! How can you not believe in the Nephilim after that?The part where it says the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown. I used to think of the word renown as something great political maybe but the true definition is known or talked about by many people. Famous! So it is safe to say that these “Giants” were talked about. Ones with strength the size of ten men, powerful, almost unkillable. I bet the name “Hercules” is running through your mind right now right! All but reduced to a myth, Hercules was larger than the average man he was super strong and so renown that he is even talked about today. I am not saying that Hercules really existed but what if some form of him did?  If these “Giants” were here which judging by the scriptures I have already read they did. Then the mystery of who really built the pyramids is solved. Right?

I love the show Ancient Aliens. Not because I believe in aliens. but because I believe it touches on part of our history lost to us. If you could just replace the word alien with angels it all comes together like puzzle pieces making the picture a bit clearer. It does frustrate me to no end that the men on there college educated men, totally believe in strange men from another world coming to earth long ago. But the idea that they were actually fallen angels and that they were already here is lost to them. If we look around at our world the ancient civilizations the tombs left behind by our ancient ancestors the proof, as they say, is in the pudding. There are ancient relics ancient monuments that prove we were once not alone. As far as it being aliens I laugh at the concept. Between what they left behind and the little glimpses into the Bible we are allowed to see it is clearly not the case. Mind blown yet?

Join me each week as I discover more about our ancient ancestors and get a little bit closer to answering that ultimate question WHERE DO WE COME FROM?

I would love any feedback and anything you want to  talk about please comment below.  Also feel free to stop by my blog at any time the link is below.

 

SHALLOW

I was buried in a shallow grave.  A dog found me while its owner was taking him for a walk while simultaneously jogging. I could feel his wet nose press against my skin and hear his bark to his master signaling that he had found something peculiar. A quick gasp and a shout and I could tell the jogger had found me. I could hear him dialing on his cell phone telling 911 that he had found a dead body, on the jogging trail in Central Park. The sirens soon began to pierce my ears and as they got closer and closer I became anxious. I tried to speak to let them know I was in fact still alive, but no sound escaped me. I tried to move but there was nothing.

Panic set in, as I hear doors slamming and other voices I just know they would take me to the morgue thinking I am already dead. I felt a sudden heat over my face and quickly realized someone was breathing over me. I felt plastic fingers checking for a pulse and orders being shouted to get a gurney over here now. The technician’s voice soothed me as he let someone else know there was a pulse but it was thready. I could hear metal clicking together as the weight of the dirt was lifted off of me. Now exposed completely to the world I felt naked but knew help was here to help me. Pain seared my arms and legs as they very slowly lifted me out of the earth the twigs and leaves scraping my already damaged skin.

I was lifted up and then placed on something soft and comfortable. Then slammed into the back of the ambulance, my body jolted but being this close to death I no longer felt it. The siren started again as I was raced to the hospital all the while I could hear the EMT’s and what I am assuming a police officer conversing. I caught snippets of the conversation as I went in and out of consciousness. There was something about a serial killer, still on the loose, and I had been the seventh body to be found. According to the officer, I was the only one he had left alive, and judging by the way he had left me he thought I was dead.

What they do not know is that I can’t die. Something happened in the midst of my death. I stepped away from my body and as I watched the blood pour out of me and the killer smile his evil smile as he buried me in my shallow grave I was visited by an Angel. One that was there to take me away but my refusal to do so left him intrigued and so he gifted me with the ability to walk between the veil of life and death. To be able to snatch life away and bring death down upon the earth if I so chose to or vice versa. As the ambulance stopped I was rushed to the hospital soon there were needles being poked in my arm I.V. drips being added. I spent the next several weeks going in and out of consciousness waiting for the day I cold open my eyes and speak.

Today I was released, I gave my statement to the nice policeman and as I listen to them all say it was a miracle that I survived I know now why I had. I was meant for more than just being a victim. I was meant to right the wrongs, and punish those slip past the law. I was plastered all over the news so by now my, would be killer knows he fucked up. He should have really checked for a pulse before he left me there like a dog to die, and now I know his name as well. I now walk the night in the shadows of life and death, that is my purpose. I round the corner of the alley where he first grabbed, a wicked smile curves my mouth as the moonlight shines down on me. I am watching, waiting, for my murder and I whisper, in the dark “Come to me, my sweet death awaits you, and I am she!”

 

 

 

 

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/shallow/”>Shallow</a&gt;

TAKE A LITTLE DRIVE

I was driving back home from a doctor’s appointment this morning. I swung by McDonald’s for a cheap breakfast before heading home to shower and get ready for work. I was driving down a back road watching the light drizzle pitter patter on the windshield.  My windows rolled down,  as I have no air and even though it is raining it is still Summer. I felt a  moment of peace with the light breeze blowing through my hair, the overcast day making it just right to be outside, enjoying my drive when it hit me.

Suddenly a memory wafted through the car, just as the breeze had and a smile escaped me. I was once told that I would never be able to get behind the wheel of a car, due to my permanent disability. That was when I was 13 years old, a disability caused by repeated abuse from my mother. I was crushed heartbroken even, not to mention it is one of those things a 13-year-old isn’t even contemplating yet, and here I was being told to never even try to learn to drive. Yet, here I was this morning driving, one of my favorite things to do. Sometimes the weather is just right, the music lilting through the speaker is just right, and you just know this is as good as life can get.

This got me thinking of all the things I have been told I would never be able to do.  At one time in my life, I was pissed. Pissed that I had not even been able to make my mark on the world and here I was being told you can’t! For years this anger this, disability became my crutch. I found it was easier to give up than to try. However, this morning I was reminded that I have beat every odd set before me. Starting with my birth. I was reminded throughout all the things I was told I would never do by doctor’s, school counselors, my mother. That I have proven all of them wrong. Anything from being happily married, to holding a job, to something as simple as driving a car. I have beat all the odds stacked against me, and it makes me smile. No longer one of satisfaction in proving these people wrong, but a smile of gratification that I did not let them win.

In just over a month I will be 41, and while I started blogging just over 2 years ago, and a book on Amazon and Barnes and Noble, and another one just finished. I still have people in my life that don’t consider me a writer. Or think I do this for fun. Yes, it is true writing is fun for me but it is not a hobby. It is the thing that brings me peace. It is the thing that makes me smile in the wake of all the negativity because I know I have defeated all odds in the past and I will defeat the odds now. I spent years letting others were me down, I spent years thinking I am not good enough so why bother. I was reminded this morning that even with me letting all the naysayers win the battle, eventually I won the war with myself and proved them wrong. That is still true as I will win this war too and prove all of them wrong once again. Nothing can stop me now, but me!

INNOCENCE LOST

“I JUST FINISHED ONE NOVEL AND AM HOPING TO HAVE IT TO A PUBLISHER BY THE END OF THE YEAR. I TOOK A LITTLE BREAK AND NOW THIS IS ONE OF MANY OF MY NEXT NOVELS TO COME. I WELCOME ALL FEEDBACK AND ANY POINTERS ON WHO TO GO TO TO GET MY MEMOIR PUBLISHED THANK YOU AND ENJOY THE BEGINNINGS OF INNOCENCE LOST!”

It was a brisk October day when he walked into my life, in Church no less. There was never any excitement in my little town. It was one of those towns where everyone knew everyone. How annoying is it that? Every little thing you do is known throughout the whole town. Cotton fields as far as the eye could see on either end, our little town was just a pit stop on the way to the big city. No one ever came here that was important, and I am sure nobody ever remembered the town name as they drove on through to their next destination.

I was Seventeen and due to having a psychotic mother, was required to bring home no less than a B in school, so of course, I was a nobody. I was a 17-year-old semi-straight A student with barely any friends, and poor to boot. I always thought if I stayed invisible no one can hurt me, no one would expect anything from me, that way no one would depend on me. I liked it that way, I learned very early on that the only person I could count on was me and me alone, that friend and friendship were just a word.

You had to earn the right to be called a friend! No one I knew fit the bill, save for one person. I was probably the only virgin in town at this rate. As true to small town’s reputation’s over half if not all the girls in my class were either pregnant or about to be.

That day everything changed, I still recall the way his bomber jacket smelled of leather and Cool Water. I loved the way it felt against my cheek when he kissed me. Every time I smell leather now I am transformed back to that day. The day he walked into my life.

It was an overcast October day, in the south, it was about as cold as it was going to get. With my light sweater and my long pink and gray dress, I looked the picture of innocence. The stupid dress even had a big pink rose right in the front. Since puberty was taking its sweet time, I still had no breasts to speak of, so the giant pink rose not only screamed “Virgin” but looked ridiculous on my chest.

I went to a Pentecostal Church so there was always a lot going on inside that place. It was the only active building in a section of buildings that once upon a time had been a small strip mall. I still to this day, do not know what those building used to be. It was set about a hundred feet from the railroad tracks. I used to think we only had Church so loud to drown out the train that passed almost every time Church was in session.

The Choir was in full swing and my best friend, my only friend (who was at least 15 years my Senior) was singing in the Choir. The small Church had a Podium, a couple of Instruments, and a tambourine, which rounded out everything on the tiny stage. The rest of the room was filled with glaring white pews about 12 in all, they smelled of old wood and fresh paint. There was a tiny Alter shoved between the first set of pews and the Podium.

It was weird because Annie and I had met in Church just in the last few months. Yes, there was an age difference and she even had a child already, but we just clicked. She had recently married the Preacher’s eldest son and even though he was a few years younger than her they fit together perfectly.

I stayed at her place a lot on the weekends due to the crazy mom syndrome I was saddled with. Not only was she physically and emotionally abusive. She had everyone that met her thinking she was the sweetest, nicest, thing ever. Coming to a breaking point, I revealed some of the craziness that I went through at home to Annie. Not only did she give me a shoulder to cry on, but she believed me!  She saw through the mask my mother put on for everyone else. She was a friend when I needed one the most, and most deserving of the word, friend.

I was watching and listening to the song she was singing when suddenly I smelled the overpowering scent of leather. I turned in my seat and there, he, was! The man that would soon change me forever! The man that would awaken every desire and fantasy I have ever had since then. He sat in the back row on the other side of the room from me. Suddenly I had these odd sensations running through my body. Was this some kind of a joke, the hottest man I had ever seen (not counting on tv) was in my nothing town, in my nothing Church, sitting there for all the world like he belonged. You know that game they used to play on Sesame Street “One of these things doesn’t belong here”. Well, he definitely did not belong.

He was all leather and all male he was the perfect description of the proverbial bad boy. As I sat there concentrating only on my breathing I couldn’t help but sneak a peek at him behind my hand. With dark brown hair and even darker eyes, he was stunning! How could everyone here just keep on singing like there was nothing going on? As if a beautiful God hadn’t just come in and graced us with his presence. I felt flushed like I was on display like I was naked and exposed. I rubbed my now sweaty palms down my dress but that just smeared sweaty streaks down the front of it. This must be where the saying “hot and bothered” comes from because I was hot and defiantly bothered.

I couldn’t concentrate, I became light headed and more aware of my body than I think I had ever been in my entire life. I became paranoid as if his stare were boring into the back of my skull. I felt a twinge of guilt for having such dastardly emotions while sitting in the house of God. Yet,  the guilt quickly dissipated in the wake of such primal urges.  I couldn’t help it I was flushed and all I wanted to do was sink into the pew and disappear. I smiled at my friend as the song ended and clapped when everyone else clapped but my mind was now churning, lost to me, thinking only of the handsome stranger in the back row. I knew something was about to change for me. Hell, even my body could feel it.

 

This was it the moment that would change me forever, the moment of my sexual awakening and this was only the beginning…

GONE GIRL

Her eyes were the color of passion, Yet he didn’t seem to notice when the light dimmed and the passion faded.

He used to say her hair had captured the sunshine it would gleam from all of its perfection, Yet he never really seemed to notice the moment it began to gray.

Her smile used to enrapture him and capture the world, Yet he didn’t seem to notice when it slipped away, replaced with a permanent frown.

Once upon a time she dreamed and she dreamed big, Yet he didn’t seem to notice when her dreams became nightmares, always out of reach.

She never used to cry because she was filled with joy and love, Yet he didn’t seem to notice when her constant tears stained the marital bed.

She was happy and content the day they said I do, Yet he didn’t seem to notice the moment her heart was broken in two.

She was too busy doing her duty as a wife, a mother, a lover, to really see what she had lost, Yet he never seemed to notice she had become nothing more than a maid, a babysitter, his whore.

With all the things he had forgotten to see, is it really such a surprise, he never noticed when she was gone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nightmares and reality

The dream began as it always did with flashes of a past filled with images you only see in a nightmare. Crimson blood smeared on the white pillows, their downy soft feathers falling like rain back onto the bed gently.Their now contrasting colors of white and red stealing their innocence. The night is filled with a deafening silence, the room empty and void of all life save for his breathing, becoming more labored by the minute.
Terror seeped into his pores as he made his way to her side of the bed. Seeing her there so lifeless her eyes now just empty soulless orbs staring into oblivion. Her long blonde usually perfectly coifed locks matted together with blood. The ends still dripping with her life’s elixir.

His eyes traveled down her body where her arms were covered in deep gashes as if someone had taken a knife to a cutting stone. Yet, instead of stone, it was her soft supple flesh, now turned into nothing more than so much meat. The ripped edges already crusting over from the rapidly drying blood. Adam’s breath caught as his eyes caught the blood still oozing out of her chest and abdomen. Her once perfectly rounded breasts now just a ragged gaping mess of flesh flayed down to the bone. Her intestines were spilling out of her stomach and onto her legs the flies had already begun to feast on the grotesque scene before him. It was like some kind of horror movie only the scene was captured right here in his bedroom. He bent down to touch her face the bile beginning to rise even further as white hot tears stung his eyes.

He waited for a heartbeat half expecting her to wake at any moment and say “Gotcha” but he knew she was dead. He bent his forehead to hers and as the tears fell and splashed down upon her lifeless corpse he closed her eyes never to see their blue sparkle again. He stood not knowing what do to. Enraged at who could have taken his beautiful wife away. It was a moment of pure insanity as he began to shake from the sheer terror of it all. Her blood soaked the white plush carpet and yet, he still felt he may get some on him and was freaking out at the thought.

Adam finally looked down at his own body as it shook with a mixture of grief and terror and what he found crumbled him. He stood there over, the love of his life with bloody marks gouges on his hands and wrist as if someone had tried to fight him off. He found blood smeared into his shirt and knew in that instant it was hers. In his other hand still dripping was a knife. A knife that had not just her blood on it but meat and tissue hanging off of it. He threw the knife as it dawned on him he had killed her, he was the monster that had penetrated his inner sanctum and butchered his wife.

With no memory of the incident, he couldn’t figure out why? Why would he have done this? What would possess a seemingly normal man to murder the love of his life? Confused and heartbroken he backed away slowly, hearing a laughter in his head he had never heard before, A person that loved the idea of killing, a person that wanted to kill again, someone that thirsted for her blood and still craved it even after her life had left her.

This was the first time Adam realized he was more than what he thought he was. This was the first time he had met his dark side. He knew anyone was capable of such atrocities it just took a certain kind to be able to go through with it. This was his first kill and in that moment the sudden sense of pleasure that washed over him at the thought of watching the life drain out of his perfect wife he knew it wouldn’t be his last. As he sobered up and did away with the murder weapon and made his wife and all evidence disappear a sort of peace he had never felt before settled over him like a warm blanket.

Ten years later, and he always knew when that certain itch was upon him he always knew when it was time to find his next victim. It always started with the damned dreams. The dreams of her with her pretty blonde hair matted with blood. Her perfectly rounded figure reduced to nothing more than bones and meat. It saddened him and at the same time, it gave him a purpose in a world gone mad. It was a good thing he was good looking all these whores flaunted themselves at him regardless of his off-putting demeanor. There were always plenty of victims flocking to his door. Case in point the woman in his bed at this very moment.

He woke with a start and knew it was time. It was his moment to shine. He looked over at the brunette sleeping so peacefully. He smiled with a glimmer in his eyes. This was way too easy like shooting fish in a barrel easy. He almost felt sorry for her as he raised his knife in the air…

FRACTURED

As  I sit here staring at the moonlight, I feel empty. What once gave me pleasure now just hangs there like a wasted ornament on a lifeless tree.

I rise broken and frayed I stumble toward its healing power. Yet he and I both know he can’t fix this thing that is broken inside of me.

I can still hear the first crack of my mind as it continues to echo and splinter out. The sound like so many bones breaking under pressure and I think to myself “am I already dead?”

My soul weeps for my heart as it shatters along with what’s left of my mind and I find that the light has gone out and I am once again alone, in the darkness.

My eyes begin to burn with unshed tears, tears that I have cried a thousand times, and I wonder much like the bear in the woods can your mind really break if no one is there to witness it?

I can hear the time slowly ticking down like that of a bomb counting down to my extinction, as the fear that I am losing my mind overtakes me.

An agonizing, painful, death if there ever was one. To watch and wait with bated breath as your mind slowly gives way, to oblivion.

I sit here on my playground of insanity with its lifeless trees with their lifeless leaves. All the color has been leached out of them and me I am alone amidst the desolation.

After all these years, and all these times I have fought and won, I laugh at the thought that this, this is what will finally break me. This is what will finally win the war I wage daily.

Once the question “how much more can one person possibly take?'” began to circle my brain I knew it was only a matter of time before my mind began to break.

The earth began to quake, I began to shake, the rubber band that was holding the pieces of my mind finally snapped with a crispness somehow only I could hear.

Trapped in the recesses of my own mind, I seek solace where there is none, I seek peace in a never-ending war, I seek quiet in the midst of a raging storm. There is none.

There is nothing only me, sitting here with my fractured mind, on a moonless, colorless night.