I was not POPULAR or ATHLETIC in high school.  My only INTEREST was getting in getting the work done and getting the hell out of there. I was that kid and there was always one like me, that sat in the corner or the back of the class. Never speaking to anyone counting down the minutes in my day until it was over. My life was a never-ending mess. I don’t know why I was so anxious to leave school anyway.  It was the only reprieve from my home life. Ah, my home life. Filled with terror on a daily basis I never knew from one moment to the next what I was getting into with my mother. I was often filled with despair and hopelessness something I have never fully recovered from.

As I left home and became and adult I swept most of my childhood and the blight that was high school under the rug so to speak. I was free of the past and so that is exactly where I intended to leave it once I got older and married the love of my life. I thought “finally, I have managed to keep my head above water long enough to survive my youth.” I was the one that always put on a brave face taking pride in the fact that the past didn’t break me. I am now 41 and the past few months have been a roller coaster of emotions and feelings. I don’t know if it is all the emotions I have run through or if is just the feeling that I am free falling with no way of stopping how I land but I feel depressed.

I have never (that I will admit to) felt depressed or anything like this. I recently had the greatest birthday ever but even the joy of reuniting with all of my children quickly waned. Don’t get me wrong I would never hurt myself, but I feel lost. For the first time in my life, I feel a strange sensation as if the end of the world is upon me. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, and my body thinks it is much older than it is. I am falling apart from the inside out. Maybe the wear and tear on me physically, is what has got me down. I find no passion in anything. Not even my favorite thing to do which is write. I mean, yes, I am writing now but that is only to try and get this monkey off my back.

I am exhausted, all the time and I can’t even do my laundry without help anymore. No one understands what I go through with my new job where I walk all day long or gets that I am terrified of my constant back pain and what it may mean for me in the near future. However, as long as I am able I will write, it may not be all the time but I will continue to do so long after it pains me to do so, because while I was never the popular or athletic kid in school I was always a writer. Do what makes you happy, even if it breaks your heart to do so.







<a href=””>Popular</a&gt;

<a href=””>Athletic</a&gt;

<a href=””>Interest</a&gt;



I thought I would share on with you guys what I posted on Facebook earlier. So here goes.




One is the ancient Egyptian pyramids. The other a statue of a Confederate soldier. I am so sick and tired of this controversy over these statues. Don’t people realize these statues too are part of our history, Same as those pyramids. If nothing else they should stay up as a reminder of just how far we have come as humans, and let it go! Besides all, u haters out there guess what u won that war so what difference does it make now? I have a lot of Native American blood in me and u don’t see me still whining about the white man coming and taking my ancestors land and women, do you? The past is the past, besides no one living today was ever a slave and there r so much worse things going on in this world today. Why don’t we focus on that instead of living in the past? If nothing else for our children and our future generations of children who r now growing up in a world full of hate, anger, child molestation, other countries hating us, drug trafficking, people trafficking the list goes on and on. We need to ban together if not for ourselves but for the sake of our kids. We as Americans are allowing our own country to be torn apart and over stupid crap like a flipping statue! Without those statues, most of the country now, wouldn’t even remember how bad our country once was and we need to remember so we don’t repeat those same mistakes! If u r willing to take down a simple statue of a man. Then u need to explain to the ancient Egyptians why their pyramids need to come down. Because I guarantee someone, somewhere is going to get offended by them too for some idiotic reason or another.
Thanks for letting me purge. If u get offended by what I just said Oh well, I am exercising my freedom of speech before that too is called in to question….


The backs of her eylids burned with unshed tears. While she sat in the tub waiting for the heat from the water to rise high enough to seep into her beleaguered bones. She felt broken, in more ways than one. She brought shame to her family once again, as she refused to play by everyone else’s rules! She had a mind of her own and she used it often. Yet, in this moment she was nothing more than a hopless broken woman. Sitting in a lukewarm bath. Naked, and afraid, alone against the world. Exposing her body to the elements, exposing her secrets only she knows, for the first time in her life she was truly afraid of what comes next. 

   With no clear future, no back up plan, she stared into the abyss and realized there is no more hiding the truth, even from herself, anf that is what terrified her! Through all the pain all the sacrifice, all the heartache, she knew in this moment, she was done. She was no longer interested in the beauty the world had to offer. Flowers no longer held that sweet scent she had come to love, food turned to ashes in her mouth, tasteless and dry. The touch of his hands on her naked supple flesh had turned into acid scarring her forever. 

   Now she sits alone. Waiting for the crazy to grab hold, just so she can finally sink into its welcoming embrace. The struggle has been real but now she is tired, she wants, no needs, a reset, a time out, or the inevitabilty that she will lose her mind will have its way with her! She can already see it attempting to snatch her from reality and carrying her gently off on a wave of unknown.

       The tears she had been keeping in check for so long finally began to fall and rolled down her face. For maybe the fifth time in her life she really cried. She watched through blurred vision as the tears made their way down her skin to plink into the water. She heard a keening sound thinking the cat was nearby only to be startled that it was her. She knew her heart was shattered. 

   If only she could have peace on her heart and mind. If she could only find comfort in the cold embrace of death. If only her heart could mend itself, if only. The bathwater now tepid she rises from her pool of tears. Nothing really accomplished, nothing really gained. There are just broken dreams and her shattered heart left floating in the tepid water.


I have  been writing so much about my past that I have neglected to talk about my present and all the wonders it has held for me. Since my first book hit the best-seller list five years ago my life has been filled with book tours, fans and more writing. It is enough to make a girl of only thirty swoon. This is the first vacation I have actually taken since then and what am I doing you guessed it writing. Fame isn’t what I thought it would be I thought “yay now I am rich I can relax”, but no, I had to write one book after another just to stay on that “best seller” list. I am exhausted. It is a never-ending fight to be the one on top all the time. So when my best friend suggested I stay at her house in Maine while she went to the Bahamas for the winter I couldn’t pass it up.

Never having been here I am loving the mountains of snow and the isolation. It is just the thing I needed since I can’t even remember the last time I was alone. I ran into the neighbor this morning and she offered to show me around town later in the week. She even invited me to the local “dive bar” her words not mine. She called it MYSTIC RED. As a writer, I was not only intrigued by the fact that she called it a dive bar but the name Mystic Red. There is a story there and I intend to find out who names their bar Mystic Red.

Is it some sort of sacred name someone’s great, great, great grandfather named it? I feel as a writer I can construct an entire story on the name alone. Is it some sort of mystical name? Is this bar indeed Mystical? I am picturing one of those hole in the walls with license plates on the walls as the room decor. I see the bar itself soaked with stale beer and cheap glasses. The bartender probably some overweight ner do well. His bartending job was a “second chance” after he got early, release on parole for good behavior.

Maybe I am just being a snob here but when someone says “dive bar” as being the sole entertainment in a small town. That is what I picture. Maybe I am wrong, maybe it is a hidden treasure that will exceed all my expectations. I can’t wait to go and mingle with the simple town folk as Marta called them.

I gaze out the window and see that the snow is falling once more. It seems to never stop once winter hits in this tiny town. Peaceful in its blinding whiteness. I get the feeling that something is about to happen. I don’t know what but the writer in me is intrigued at all the possibilities. I am here for another three months I might as well enjoy it while I can. No matter what happens I will have pen and paper at the ready. I can hardly contain myself waiting for Mystic Red…






It is Winter. There is no snow yet the temperature continues to drop day by agonizing day. I can smell it in the wind and it is just a matter of time before the white stuff shows it’s fury.The witching hour is upon me and as I gaze outside I can see the frozen barren land clearly under the full moonlight.

The moon is so full and bright it almost appears as daytime in the wake of the late hour. The infertile trees shadow plays upon the ground taking on a skeletal hue with their inky blackness. Looming across the landscape as if they are trying to escape the bitterness that is Winter.

It is a beautiful sight in its eeriness. I half expect a zombie or a werewolf to come charging across the yard but alas, I know they too (if they were real) would be smart enough to stay out of this cold.

It is late and I am tired yet, the call of this cold night and all its splendor almost has me reaching for the door, almost. I just stare for what seems like an eternity through the window at the beauty I am capturing in my mind for later and how I feel in this moment.

All alone I feel a kinship with those lifeless shadows and for one brief moment, the trees and I are one. I feel their sadness, their pain, their lifelessness. I have been there I have felt sadness, pain, and most of all a lifelessness I can’t explain.

I am touched by those shadows and the eternal light that now shines upon them showing all of their flaws, their imperfections, their brokenness and yet they still stand tall and proud.

I take a snapshot of them in my mind as I silently scream at Winter for she has taken their life and with it all the beauty they once possessed. Yet, they are not ashamed they sprawl across my lawn knowing who they are? What they are? Casting beautiful shadows even in death. They know they will be alive again that the seasons will change and they will once again rise to greatness.

I guess that is the thing we all need to take from these trees. No matter how broken we are during the (Winter) just remember the seasons will change and we will once again be alive and beautiful …



The PANOPLY of severed body parts decorated the trophy case from end to end. Detective Morgan Smith had never seen such a site in all her life. Spending the last ten years climbing the ladder making detective just over three years ago, the youngest female to do so in the precinct she has seen some stuff but this, this was a nightmare.

Taking up one entire wall of the small bungalow. It was by all accounts the most impressive display Morgan had ever seen. Stepping closer to the case she ran her gloved finger over the shelf just above a severed ear pinned to a cork board. Opening the cabinet the bile instantly rose to her throat the second the scent of rotting flesh hit and burned her nostrils. Closing the door and stepping away from the case she coughed slightly getting her gag reflex under control. She barked out orders about dusting for prints and getting everything bagged and tagged for evidence.

As she stepped outside and into the sunshine to get some fresh air. Out of the room of horrors the air no longer stale and stifling. She gulped in large quantities of it as if she were drowning in it. The smell of rotten flesh now signed into her nose she couldn’t  help but wonder of the vile smell would ever dissipate.

Once she had control a white hot rage started to simmer within the pit of her stomach. They now knew who this guy was judging by the id’s left behind. Just because he got away this time didn’t mean she wouldn’t catch him. The atrocities this psycho has committed. She shuttered at the memory of  his “trophies”. That image she knew, would never be able to be erased from her mind. One way or another she would catch this bastard and bring him to justice. Detective Morgan Smith always got her man. This sick predator just became her prey…

Heath watched with a suspicious  eye from across the street as the cops swarmed his house. How the hell they even found him was a mystery. He had been playing cat and mouse with the law for the better part of two decades. Always outsmarting the pigs. Always one step ahead of them. He was proud of his cunning to outwit and outrun them and his fifth-grade teacher said he would never amount to anything. Ha! Look at him now. He watched through the window as they began to fondle his trophies. A white hot rage began to simmer in the pit of his stomach. How dare they touch his hard earned collection!

The monster inside of him began to stir with a vengeance. The need to maim or kill becoming almost overwhelming. Maniacal laughter escaped him as he was whisked back to an earlier memory. Psycho, Crazy, Lunatic. these were the names his very own shrink that he was court ordered to see at the tender age of sixteen called had called him.

He knew from a very young age that he was different. Even by the time he reached the age of twelve he had already collected his first of many collections to come animal pelts. He now found it ironic that the one person that was supposed to fix him had actually helped him progress his wants, his desires, his needs.

She was his very first kill! He could still feel her blonde hair brush his cheek as he choked her from behind. He could still smell her sickening sweet perfume. He could still taste her blood he had slowly licked off his fingers one by one after he had slit her throat just to watch her bleed. It hadn’t mattered she was already dead. Shaking himself out of the past memory he licked his lips as if he could still taste her essence. He looked down to see his now bulging erection. He had never had a problem getting it up all he ever needed to do was think of Laura. Ah, Laura and her blonde hair.

A gleam of light caught his eyes in the dappled sunlight. He looked out the window again to see the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. A pair of diamond earrings glinting in the sun attached to the most splendid display of earlobes he had ever seen. Perfect in shaped not too big not to small they were breathtaking. After drooling over the ears for what seemed like an eternity he finally gazed at the face of a female detective looking like she was trying to breath in the tiny front yard of his sanctuary. With her brunette hair pulled into a high ponytail it was as if she was showing off those decadent lobes just for him. An evil grin spread over his face as he began to plot and plan.

Patting himself on the back once again for his borrowed fingerprints  and his identification of a dead man left in the house he knew this perky cop would be chasing a ghost, forever! He almost felt sorry for her thinking she was closing in on her prey, almost.

Now he could do what he did best disappear and in a few months pop back up where this little minx least expected. This was gonna be way too easy , like taking candy from a baby or her ears off her pretty little head. She would be the first in his new collection. Let the games begin…

<a href=””>Panoply</a&gt;


I have been in love with this song ever since I heard it on the hit tv show NOTORIOUS and then  on the hit show LUCIFER and then it showed up in the hit show SUPERGIRL all in the same week which is great. Here are the lyrics to this song:

Way Down We Go
Father tell me, we get what we deserve
Oh we get what we deserve
And way down we go
Way down we go
Say way down we go
Way down we go
You let your feet run wild
Time has come as we all oh, go down
Yeah but for the fall oh, my
Do you dare to look him right in the eyes?
‘Cause they will run you down, down til the dark
Yes and they will run you down, down til you fall
And they will run you down, down til you go
Yeah so you can’t crawl no more
And way down we go
Way down…
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          There is more on youtube but this is the gist of this song. It has become my new favorite song and for some reason whether it be the actual lyrics or the tone of the music itself. Yet for some reason, it is haunting me as well. Do we really get what we deserve?  If so what the hell have I done? I question everything when I hear this song. A plethora of questions arise yet, I listen to it anyway. There is some truth in those lyrics as I know that they will run you down till you fall. Or be on the brink of falling before I continuously keep from falling fully into the abyss that just happened to be my life. “Time has come as we all fall Oh down!” Where are we falling into ourselves, are giving up as we let the demons that plagued is for so long finally win.
   “For the fall oh, my do you dare to look him right in the eyes?” Is this the part where I am supposed to be terrified of the fall as if in a dream if you die in the dream you die in real life. Well I am no longer scared of the fall. Let me fall into the abyss and see where I land.
   I viewed this song as a religious song at first. Yet, the more I listen to it the more I am proud of the fact that despite my past I never fell! I never gave up and I never turned to the dark side to where I needed to crawl. I just picked myself up and kept going. I am made of stronger stock than even I once imagined and no one not even the demons that still haunt me can take that away from me. So way down we may go but it is our rise to the occasion that matters. So bring on your sultry voice and your haunting words. I’m ready to take on this hauntingly beautiful song…