#when i was trying to run the house and care for four dogs by myself while disabled

[hussyknee]

Me: "You, along with the with the rest of this household has been abusive AF, punishing me for trying to care for these helpless animals by myself and draining my will to live. And you don't get to tell me about "basic manners" ever again when you never sent condolences for the death of my MIL, a woman who adored you like her own daughter."

Sister: "EVERY DAY YOU HEAP ABUSE ON ME!!!"

[chitty-chitty-bang-bang-bang]

Vlad, Viago and Deacon as parents [pt. 3]

[part 1] [part 2]

Requested by @italakthoughts (btw, is it pronounced like “eehtalak” or “aytalak”?)

Author’s note: There will be some angst in this part, sorry guys, couldn’t help myself. This is probably the last part of this as headcanons, but I might make a one shot later. Also, I am still open to requests, but I will be a bit slower with posting, bc college is kicking my ass so hard it’s ridiculous.

_____________________________________________

All three have their favourite game to play with you.

For Deacon it’s tag. You run around the whole house, climbing walls and ceilings, turning into bats or dogs and always trying to outsmart each other.

With all the excessive energy both of you have, this is literally the perfect activity to get you to fall asleep faster, because your tag is hardcore. A human wouldn’t stand a chance.

With Vlad it’s blind man’s buff. Because of vampire’s heightened sensitivity, this game becomes all the more challenging for the one hiding, because you have to move very smoothly and be completely silent.

Of course, Vladislav still senses where you are, but he likes to give way to you. Your happy smile whenever you win is absolutely worth it.

Viago always goes for hide and seek. At first, you weren’t a very good at it and chose the most obvious hiding places. But with time you improved to the point, where Viago sometimes legitimately wonders if he lost you.

When he can’t find you for way too long, he just gives up and asks you to come out of your hiding place.

You also do a lot of tea parties together.

Just imagine the three of them sitting at a tiny table with toy cups filled with blood.

You usually made up some kind of weird circumstances for the party. For example, you pretend that you’re aristocratic mice, who conquered a cat’s lair and now celebrate your victory with a tea party. Or you are all wives of a wealthy king and you plot his murder to share the power between the four of you.

They really get into their imaginary roles. Though sometimes this can lead to them getting a bit carried away and actually starting a fight over a fictional event.

Nick and Stu often join in as well.

You really like playing with Vlad’s hair, since he has the longest out of the three and that means you can do a lot of funny hairdos. He doesn’t really mind, as long as you’re careful to not rip anything out (it grows back very fast, but it’s still an unpleasant feeling).

Deacon often gives you piggyback rides anywhere and everywhere. You basically use him as a jungle gym and while it sometimes annoys him, he rarely protests.

In winter, Viago always takes you ice skating. Even though you’re a vampire and you can’t catch a cold (or feel cold for that matter), he still insist on you wearing very warm clothes. People might think he’s not taking good care of his kid!

When they go to New York for the vampiric council duties (shoutout to wwdits show), they take you with them. Viago definitely takes you to see a musical. He’s not bailing on that. And it’s probably going to be something incredibly campy. Probably Andrew Lloyd Webber too.

You and Deacon have an absolute blast in the NY subway, scaring random people to death with little to no repercussions or getting into the last car and drinking whoever dared to sit there alone.

Some random blogger accidentally caught you and Vladislav turning into bats in an alleyway of Manhattan on video. So you had to hunt him down and hypnotise his whole audience into forgetting about the existence of that footage. It felt nice to be famous even if only for a bit.

As any flatting situation, these three have a lot of bickering and arguments.

They really try to avoid having any of those arguments in front of you, but sometimes it gets out of control. In those cases, they try to either deflate it or just ask you to leave the room and let them sort this out.

Petty or not, parents’ arguments are not something a child should be watching.

If you ever die from being burnt by sunlight or get killed by a vampire slayer they will be utterly devastated.

Vladislav is probably the best at handling it. He grieves silently by himself, reminiscing about all the fun silly things you’d say and do when he wasn’t in the mood. With time, the sadness numbs. But there is still that gaping emptiness somewhere in his immortal soul.

Viago would never forgive himself. Maybe if he took better care of you, if he paid more attention, if he took more precautions, if he kept a closer eye on you, if he was just by your side at the right time… maybe you’d still be running through the halls of this dusty house…

Deacon is just furious. He’s furious at whatever caused your death and he’s furious at you for being so reckless and getting yourself killed. Why do his closest ones keep leaving him so suddenly?

But that won’t happen obviously, you’re not dumb enough to die twice ;)

Genuinely, your time with them could be considered one of the happiest periods of your life. And if you tell them that, they will feel very proud of themselves.

All three of them really mean well and want to give you the childhood they never had.

[mj-iza-writer]

Pet whump... can't stop myself 👀

Whumpee lowered themselves closer to the floor to be able to drink from their water dish. Whumper walked by as they lapped up the drink.

"Such a good pet", Whumper smiled and patted their head.

Whumpee smiled weakly. They had finally given in to this role that Whumper wanted. It had taken a long time, but Whumper patiently worked through everything Whumpee had done to get out of it, some of it more painful than others.

They stretched out their knees, crawling around was becoming more painful. As they wandered around the home, having some freedom now they realized Whumper had left the front door open. They glanced outside, not having seen outside in forever. Glancing back, they realized Whumper wasn't in sight.

"I wonder", they whispered to themselves. In a second of bravery, they crashed out of the door and started to run, they didn't know where too, there was nothing out here.

Suddenly, they heard a beeping noise, and a shock wave went through their body, sending them to the ground. It stopped. They looked back at the house, Whumper was in the door way smiling.

"How about you come back here", Whumper yelled to them, "I'm not coming to get you."

Whumpee stayed on the ground. They were shaking, not sure if it was anger or the shock waves, but they didn't want to move.

"I'll shock you again if you don't get over here", Whumper yelled from the porch. They pressed the button for a warning beep.

"Fuck, I'm coming, geesh", Whumpee shot their head up and yelled.

"Hurry up", Whumper beeped the collar again.

When Whumpee made it to the porch, Whumper shook their head, "I didn't know dogs could walk on two feet, I suggest you get on all fours."

Whumpee mumbled under their breath but got down.

"You failed your test", Whumper frowned, "did you really think it was going to be that easy to escape? Plus, where were you going? We are quite literally in the middle of nowhere."

"I had to try", Whumpee whispered, fighting back tears.

"Well, you bought yourself a punishment. Go to your cage, I'll be there shortly", Whumper held the door open and watched them disappear down the hall.

The rest of the day, into the next morning, Whumpee stayed locked in that cage. They had received a whipping, and was put in there right after.

Whumper came in, and unlatched the cage. "Come out, we'll try this again. Your breakfast is already served, get cleaned up, then eat."

"Yes sir, thankyou sir."

"Yep"

After breakfast, Whumpee saw the door was opened again, Whumper was outside drinking their coffee.

They sat at the door, honestly just wishing to be outside. They hadn't been out in months. They couldn't believe they used to hate being outside, it's all they wanted right now.

They pressed their luck and tapped on the glass to get Whumper's attention.

Whumper came to the door and opened it, "are you okay?"

"May I, may I come outside, just to sit either on the porch or in the grass, I don't care which, please can I just come outside", a tear streamed down their face, "I won't run."

"Yes, you can come out", Whumper stood aside, and let them come out. "You can stay on the porch, but if you want to be in the grass you can, you're not allowed to go past my truck though."

"Yes sir, thankyou sir", Whumpee looked around and started to crawl towards the grass.

"You're welcome", Whumper went back to their coffee. They grinned when they saw Whumpee flop into the grass.

Whumpee rolled over to look up at the sky, "oh yeah, the sky is blue", they whispered. They rolled back over, and noticed some flowers, "I haven't smelt flowers in a long time either."

They crawled to the flowers. Catching Whumper's eyes, and looked away quickly. This still felt embarrassing to them and they didn't want to be watched so closely.

Whumper grinned. They knew they still had a lot of work, but they were making some headway.

[romaine2424]

Drarry Fic Recs!

I've written very little the past week because I've been on a reading rampage. Stating up front, I'm a speed reader. Oh my! I usually read something everyday but set it aside at night when I do most of my writing. These stories, though, just took me in and I couldn't stop. They run the spectrum from a Regency A/B/O WIP to a 580K Dystopian Voldemort wins with a Draco and Harry you will never ever forget. These fics are all on AO3. So let's get started...

Let's start Light: Seeking: pet carer for Bartholomew (four-year old rescue greyhound, no special needs) by @gallifrey1sburning (14.5K, 2020). The fic is non-magical AU and features overworked, recently dumped, lawyer!Draco. He and his previous partner had adopted a rescue greyhound (Bartholomew). The poor beast needs care during the day, walking and such. Enter dog-walker extraordinaire Harry. It's lovely and it reads true to their characters. Pansy plays a very Slytherin role in putting these two together. It's not too fluffy but is definitely sweet in just the right amount.

Follow the Water by @xanthippe74 (38K, 2020). The atmosphere the author created for this fic is so gorgeous. You can picture and almost feel the breeze of a spring day. The heat of summer relieved by brooks, forests, and rivers. It starts on a Spring day with Harry taking a long walk from the Burrow because he doesn't feel like going home. He has a boring job and leads a boring life. He comes upon Luna's house, now rebuilt into a one story stone home. He finds Draco, Pansy, and Greg visiting Luna. Soon he is coming every Saturday to work in the garden, cook, and other things as they put together an outdoor camp. The whole fic takes place on these weekend adventures and mostly outside in the fresh air as the group bonds. While this is a light fic, it is not fluffy. They are children recapturing a youth most never got to experience. So come enjoy Pansy reading romance novels, Draco singing, a promise of flying kites, spending the night in tents, and taking long hikes. Oh, and finding Love.

Strawberry Fields (bitter bites) by @eddietoz (54K, WIP 15/18) And now we come to the Regency A/B/O. I mean really, do I need to say more than Omega!Draco who was caught with the gardener in Malfoy Manor being sent away to live with his aunt and cousin in Godric's Hollow, where he quickly insults the most eligible Alpha, one young Harry Potter who is joining the Navy. Captain Harry returns five years later and the fun ensues. Well not for Harry who has had his heart broken by his childhood sweetheart. Draco, still trying to redeem himself after the incident in Wiltshire and insulting Harry, meets with Captain Potter and they devise a plan for Harry to win back his love and Draco be redeemed. This may or may not backfire. You can feel the A/B/O heat in this fic, but given the era, everything is repressed and societal norms of courting must be followed. *fans myself* The author is still updating. The 14th chapter went up a little over a week ago (update...chapter 15 just went up). I haven't found many Drarry A/B/O fics of my liking (besides Embers by @shiftylinguini), but this one is like a Jane Austen/HarryPotter/ A/B/O crossover. Delish!!!!!

Where all the Veins Meet by @saxamophone (146K, 2023) How good is this fic? It's so good I read it despite it being the usual type I normally wouldn't. I'm not a fan of depressed, 'woe is me' Harry after the war. Not that he wouldn't have problems...most definitely. I just usually stay away from depressed!Harry for my own sake. However, the author won me over on this one. It takes place right after the war and through the summer of 1998. Harry's friends are trying to support him by showing up at Grimmauld Place to be with him. They love him. But, Harry, is so confused on what is him, who he is now that Voldemort is not only physically gone but also gone from his head. He becomes...shall I say...dickish. But still they love him. He meets up with Draco by accident in a museum, and this continues. They become almost friends. Draco (on parole having to take Muggle studies) is living with his Slytherin compatriots and they aren't doing so well either. Especially Pansy. Meetings continue, trust builds, friends aren't happy (some furious) when they find out. But in all this confusion, a light appears at the end of this tunnel. Beautifully told, heartbreaking, but resiliency and forgiveness is found.

And now for the beast of a fic I mentioned up top. I'm giving two links as the Completed original is in Spanish and was just completed a few weeks ago). The second is the translation that is not yet completed and I believe will take quite a while to do so. Desolación by SimpleNefelibata (2023). Desolation translated by JhonnyBotello01. (24/67 ~200K). Here is the summary: Harry Potter was dead. The war was over. The whole (UK) Wizarding World was finally under Voldemort's regime. And Draco Malfoy was part of the most inner circle to the Dark Lord. Eight years after the Battle of Hogwarts, and with the sudden apparition of Hannah Abbott at the Manor door, Draco is faced with desmanteling all the hard truths he's learned to live with. The fic comes down to one point, Nagini disappeared before being killed by Neville and one Narcissa Malfoy has been in Azkaban for 8 years for treason (lying to Voldemort about Harry being dead). And Draco has spent 8 years moving up the ranks so he could get her released.

I'll say up front, do not come near this fic if you cannot read torture. The author gives this warning: This story takes place in a dark world. It will touch themes like slavery, torture, violence, sexual abuse, and death in VERY grusome ways, as far as detailing them graphically and explicitly from the start, with the idea to not romanticize these themes. Take this seriously.

There is a Resistance, there is an Order and there is a BAMF Harry Potter who is now a seasoned warrior. He's surrounded by the most faithful including one Minerva McGonagall and, of course, Ron and Hermione. The Weasleys, Luna, Theo,and Kingsley all play starring roles, too. On Voldemort's side, Greyback, Theo, and an OC are front and center.

When we meet up with Draco Malfoy, he is a member of Voldemort's highest inner circle the Nobilium. Draco, called by the name Astaroth, is feared by all as he is the potion and spell maker of the Darkest kind. He discovers his mother has died at Azkaban and she is his world. The only person he truly loves and cares for. He breaks. He knows the master he's been serving was responsible but his father has been blamed and is in Azkaban, too. Narcissa saw something at the end of the Battle, but couldn't be broken to tell what it was. What she knew would be the turning point for both sides. Draco meets with the Order and despite almost everyone telling Harry not to do it, Harry brings him into the fold...well kind of...

The worldbuilding for this dystopian fic is amazing. The storytelling so very very original. The characterizations of Harry and Draco, masterful. And almost every chapter will have you on the edge of your seat. There is no let up.

I will say, there is one subplot towards the end, I detested and couldn't buy into it. But when you write a 580K fic, you cannot please everyone. I stand by that this fic is masterful despite this issue.

Now, how did I, who doesn't read or write Spanish finish this fic? I read the translation version, which is terrific and then switched over to the original story and read it on my Iphone. You're given a choice there to read it in English. Okay, its a google translation which massacres each and every pronoun and translates Draco calling Lucius PaPa into Potato. LMAO. But I was so hooked, I had to know what happened. If you have patience, I advise subscribing to the translated version. If you can read Spanish, I'm highly jealous of you!

Hope you find something you enjoy reading here. And remember to comment with love on what you read.

I seriously have to get back to my writing now.

[floydsmuse]

Meggy I can't resist this thought, I was gonna wait since I just left it but I can't help myself at all (lol).

I did share this with a friend, but the thought of a slight crossover with Harry Potter and Percy Jackson with Outer Range just has me going HNNNGGGHH!!!!! (lol).

Rhett, Royal, Cecelia, wifey and the Yellowstone crew run a ranch that's a bit of a cross between Hogwarts and Camp Half Blood. The place takes kids from nursery school through Grade 12 and even has a joint college program with other magical colleges throughout the US and the world.

All of the kids have their own little cabins, hidey holes and houses but none is more favored than the aptly named "Prairie Dog Den". Rhett's in charge of the den and the secret entrance is in the storehouse behind an oddly marked whiskey barrel. If you knock on the barrels wrong, you get whiskey dumped all over you (lol). But it's sooooo nice and cozy inside, almost like the Hufflepuff common room with lots of cozy chairs, a fireplace, plenty of library space, a cozy corner for cats, owls or other familiars and the bedroom has super comfy four posters covered over in thick quilts for the winter.

Kids are encouraged to keep lots and lots of field guides and make their own main lesson books and have plenty of outdoor time to play and explore. They even learn all the cowboy/rodeo arts too. Bull riding is always fun, however it's not with any ordinary bulls.......the kids have to learn to ride the bulls in Apollo's herd and they are some of the most ornery motherfuckers you've ever seen! Putting them out to pasture is easy, however some of the kids who were on the drive runs had forgotten to lock the gate and it got to the point where Rhett and Royal ended up putting up a sign that said "Chasing cows will be your fate, if ya'll don't close the fuckin gate" (lol).

Many of the Early Childhood kiddos including yours and Rhett's little babies have an absolute blast with their playgroups and are almost always under the watchful eyes of their teachers, some mortals and others the different nymphs that came from Camp Half Blood to work with the littles. During naptime, they'll play a lyre that they made (my school's early childhood program actually does this and it's AMAZING!) and at night when they go to their dormitories, they have soft, fluffy little dream dragons who will snuggle with them, put them back to sleep if they wake up suddenly and will eat up the bad dreams that try and creep their way in.

The forest is everybody's favorite stomping grounds, acre after acre of thick woods, a swamp, a lake and hills that make for great trail rides. The swamp mermaids keep careful watch over the kids playing Capture The Flag, Hide And Seek and have even been known to make shelters for the frogs and turtles out of sticks, moss and algae while the ones that live in the lake, teach the kids how to swim during the summer and even swim alongside the rowing teams.

The woods themselves are perfect grounds for familiars such as wildcats, bears, mountain lions, lynxes, wolves, ospreys, eagles and other wild creatures native to the Yellowstone area. Thomas Rainwater and his friend Mo, both have thunderbirds who like to nest high in the trees and watch for danger. There's also a whole mish-mosh of creatures who have come with students across the world, many of them mountain trolls and giants that guard the entrances to the woods. You and Rhett occasionally take the kiddos on a little adventure to visit a whole clan of Bigfoots who also protect the place.

Even the gods and goddesses from across the world have come in the guise of a mortal since the Abbotts and the Duttons have close relations with Camp Half Blood and will come to guest teach. Apollo loves watching the bull riding and roping but does get squeamish when some of the riders get bucked off his bulls (lol). Thor occasionally comes for a visit but has to accompany Loki for various reasons. Spider Grandmother is a frequent visitor for Thomas, Mo and many of the students who have Native American heritage and teaches everyone how to spin fibers by hand.

By far, Dionysus is everybody's favorite visitor (think a guy with Rhett's hair, but it's black and he has a really close cut beard, a purple flannel, muddy jeans, steel toed Tim's and a Mack hat like Rhett's, lol).  A few of the kids in the 5th grade planted a little vineyard for the Greek games they were hosting but nothing could really grow. Dionysus took them all out for their gardening course and showed them exactly what to do and BOOM! The grape fields exploded with life, but that's nothing compared to what he did with them that summer.

It was a wicked hot summer in Montana, hadn't rained for a good two weeks (one of the rain gods must've been pissed off about something and Dionysus was definitely not having it, lol). Well, Mr. Grapes himself looked around and thought a little fun might be in order. So, him, Rhett, wifey and the students all got their cowboy on and decided they were gonna do a lil rain line-dance and what did they pick for a song?? What else but "Rain Is A Good Thing" by Luke Bryan (lol).

I also seriously believe the ranch was so well known amongst both the muggle and wizarding world and was held in such high regard that all magical schools in the wizarding world mandated that their own students do at least one year abroad at the ranch (the Abbotts and the Duttons took in both muggles and squibs because they saw that magic could be taught and that people simply weren't born with it). I also firmly believe that when the Golden Trio and many of their friends, Malfoy included, had children of their own, they sent them to the ranch to learn all that (lol).

Meggy I've gotta hold it right there because I know if I keep going with it, it's gonna be too long of a blurb (lol).

hehe Mary it’s all good! i can’t wait to read these thoughts on a crossover between Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, & Outer Range ?! oooohh!! this sounds awesome! i’m really looking forward to it🥰

~ woah okay! the ranch being a mix of Hogwarts & Camp half blood sounds so sick ?! omg! ooh! the little cabins for each kid could be like the different Hogwarts houses irl maybe?! love the idea of a secret entrance & getting whiskey poured on your head 😂 the den sounds so cozy & warm! as a Hufflepuff, that’s definitely somewhere i’d want to be :)) the library, the fireplace, & a little special corner for the cats?! sign me up plssss!

~ i love the idea of the kids learning the art of rodeos/bull riding! that couldn’t be more perfect!

"Chasing cows will be your fate, if ya'll don't close the fuckin gate" NOW THIS GOOD !! love this little play on words :))

~ woah! nymphs coming in from Camp Half Blood to work with the kids is amazing !! aww them playing a lyre to get them to fall asleep just sounds so lovely :,) that’s so great that they have that at your school too!!! the soft little dream dragons sound so magical 🥹 i want one hehe :) definitely think i could use it sometimes! ooh the forest sounds so cool! did you say swamp mermaids ?! i used to be OBSESSED with mermaids when i was little & actually convinced my friends that i was one, so i love that you mentioned them! capture the flag, hide & seek, & rowing all sound sooo fun !! ahhh!

~ ooh! all the wildlife, i love it! wildcats, bears, mountain lions, lynxes, wolves, ospreys, eagles. wow they sure got it all! hehe! omg mountain trolls & bigfoots?! that’s sooo awesome! my imagination is running absolutely wild trying to picture all of this right now! just imagine being taught by gods & goddesses? it’d be the coolest thing ever & i bet it would so much fun!!! Thor & Loki yesss🥰 love love it! omg Dionysus! that name definitely rings a bell & makes me think back to elementary/middle school when learning about greek mythology! haha pls! now all I’m thinking about is Rhett with black hair & i’m going feral 🫠 sheeeesh! he would look so damn good, but i love his chocolate locks too much! i bet the black would make his blue eyes pop even more tho…hmm? Mary, i’m not gonna be able to stop thinking about this now ughh😩 hehe anyways…

~ Mr Grapes plsss! that’s such a good nickname for Dionysus 🤣 aww omg! him, Rhett, wifey, & the kids getting together to do a line-dance in the rain is great !!! woah! wizards going abroad to visit the ranch is awesome & so clever! Malfoy going there with his kids is such a cool idea too!!

Mary you seriously blew me away with these thoughts! it was such a creative crossovers of worlds & i really loved reading what you came up with :)) thank you for sending them in, until next time my darling🥰💗

[1this1corrosion1]

Marilyn Monroe: My Story

1

how i rescued a white piano

Whenever I visited my mother I would stand looking at this photograph and hold my breath for fear she would order me to stop looking. I had found out that people always ordered me to stop doing anything I like to do.

I felt very warm toward the picture.

The night I met his picture I dreamed of it when I fell asleep.

That was my first happy time, finding my father’s picture. And every time I remembered how he smiled and how his hat was tipped I felt warm and not alone. When I started a sort of scrapbook a year later the first picture I put in it was a photograph of Clark Gable because he looked like my father—especially the way he wore his hat and mustache.

Once when I lay in a hospital after having my tonsils out and running into complications, I had a daydream that lasted a whole week without stopping.

And I would ask him please to take off his hat. But I could never get him in my largest, deepest daydream to take his hat off and sit down.

A man next door chased a dog I had loved and who had been waiting for me to come home. The dog barked because he was happy to see me. And the man started chasing him and ordering him to shut up. The man had a hoe in his hand. He swung the hoe. It hit my dog’s back and cut him in half.

2

my first sin

You could buy a sackful of old bread at the Holmes Bakery for twenty-five cents. Aunt Grace and I would stand in line for hours waiting to fill our sack. When I looked up at her she would grin at me and say, “Don’t worry, Norma Jean. You’re going to be a beautiful girl when you grow up. I can feel it in my bones.”

Her words made me so happy that the stale bread tasted like cream puffs.

Nearly everybody I knew talked to me about God. They always warned me not to offend Him. But when Grace talked about God, she touched my cheek and said that He loved me and watched over me. Remembering what Grace had said I lay in bed at night crying to myself. The only One who loved me and watched over me was Someone I couldn’t see or hear or touch. I used to draw pictures of God whenever I had time. In my pictures He looked a little like Aunt Grace and a little like Clark Gable.

As I grew older I knew I was different from other children because there were no kisses or promises in my life. I often felt lonely and wanted to die. I would try to cheer myself up with daydreams. I never dreamed of anyone loving me as I saw other children loved. That was too big a stretch for my imagination. I compromised by dreaming of my attracting someone’s attention (besides God), of having people look at me and say my name.

I think I wanted them to see me naked because I was ashamed of the clothes I wore—the never changing faded blue dress of poverty. Naked, I was like other girls and not someone in an orphan’s uniform.

There was one home I hoped wouldn’t throw me out. This was a house with four children who were watched over by a great-grandmother who was over a hundred years old. She took care of the children by telling them blood-curdling stories about Indian massacres, scalpings, burnings at the stake, and other wild doings of her youth. She said she had been a close friend of Buffalo Bill and had fought at his side in hand-to-hand battles with the savage Redskins.

I listened to her stories with my heart in my mouth and did everything I could to make her like me. I laughed the loudest and shivered the most at her stories. But one day one of her own great-grandchildren came running to her with her dress torn from her neck. She said I had done it. I hadn’t. But the old Indian-fighter wouldn’t believe me, and I was sent back to the orphanage in disgrace.

I daydreamed chiefly about beauty. I dreamed of myself becoming so beautiful that people would turn to look at me when I passed. And I dreamed of colors—scarlet, gold, green, white. I dreamed of myself walking proudly in beautiful clothes and being admired by everyone and overhearing words of praise. I made up the praises and repeated them aloud as if someone else were saying them.

3

it happened in math class

I didn’t mind being thought dumb. I knew I wasn’t.

I didn’t think of my body as having anything to do with sex. It was more like a friend who had mysteriously appeared in my life, a sort of magic friend. A few weeks later, I stood in front of the mirror one morning and put lipstick on my lips. I darkened my blond eyebrows. I had no money for clothes, and I had no clothes except my orphan rig and the lone sweater. The lipstick and the mascara were like clothes, however. I saw that they improved my looks as much as if I had put on a real gown.

And there was a holiday feeling in the air that surprised me. Everybody seemed to be smiling at the sky.

I was full of a strange feeling, as if I were two people. One of them was Norma Jean from the orphanage who belonged to nobody. The other was someone whose name I didn’t know. But I knew where she belonged. She belonged to the ocean and the sky and the whole world.

4

i branch out as a siren

Why I was a siren, I hadn’t the faintest idea. There were no thoughts of sex in my head. I didn’t want to be kissed, and I didn’t dream of being seduced by a duke or a movie star. The truth was that with all my lipstick and mascara and precocious curves, I was as unsensual as a fossil. But I seemed to affect people quite otherwise.

Being boys, most of them were satisfied with a goodnight kiss or a confused hug in a hallway.

The truth is I never felt offended by any of them, even the wrestlers who mussed my hair. If anything, I envied them. I would have liked to want something as much as they did. I wanted nothing. They might as well have been wooing a bear in a log.

Some said it was the way I looked at them—with eyes full of passion. Others said it was my voice that lured them on. Still others said I gave off vibrations that floored them. 

Occasionally I let one of them kiss me to see if there was anything interesting in the performance. There wasn’t.

Actually our marriage was a sort of friendship with sexual privileges. I found out later that marriages are often no more than that. And that husbands are chiefly good as lovers when they are betraying their wives.

5

marriage knell

The great war was on. Battles were being fought. Juke boxes were playing. People’s eyes were lit up.

I have noticed since that men usually leave married women alone, and are inclined to treat all wives with respect. This is no great credit to married women. Men are always ready to respect anything that bores them. The reason most wives, even pretty ones, wear such a dull look is because they’re respected so much.

My fidelity was due to my lack of interest in sex.

It’s hard to remember what you said, did, or felt when you were bored.

I feel different about having a child now. It’s one of the things I dream of. She won’t be any Norma Jean now. And I know how I’ll bring her up—without lies. Nobody will tell her lies about anything. And I’ll answer all her questions. If I don’t know the answers I’ll go to an encyclopedia and look them up. I’ll tell her whatever she wants to know—about love, about sex, about everything!

When I just wrote “this is the end of Norma Jean,” I blushed as if I had been caught in a lie. Because this sad, bitter child who grew up too fast is hardly ever out of my heart. With success all around me, I can still feel her frightened eyes looking out of mine. She keeps saying, “I never lived, I was never loved,” and often I get confused and think it’s I who am saying it.

6

lonely streets

These lonely street corner wolves “hi-babying” me sounded like voices out of the past calling me to be Miss Nobody again—to be used and ignored.

7

another soldier boy

8

i begin a new dream

(in progress)

[justzoni]

Life Updates

With the U-KISS Comeback, I've had a few PMs here and on Facebook asking if I, too, will be making a comeback.

The short answer is no, I have no plans to resume writing fan fiction. That's not to say I never will, but it's not in the books right now.

For a longer answer, I'll go ahead and give you guys a life update. Under a cut, of course, to save everyone's sanity.

Ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you that I am an incredibly laid back, happy person. I go with the flow, don't get irritated or upset, and have an easy time handling problems when they arise.

That being said, there is one thing that pisses me off like nothing else: people who try to tell me what I am or am not capable of doing. And yes, when people do that, I can also hold a grudge.

Five years ago, my ex walked out on me twelve days after I had major abdominal surgery, when I couldn't even lift a gallon of milk or take care of myself properly. Before she did, she made a few statements that really got to me. She said that autistics can only have jobs, not careers. I was told that I should be grateful that I could find retail work that paid $15 an hour, because that was all I was worth since I didn't have a college degree. And I was also told that I should count my self very lucky that I had someone to "help out" financially.

To add to this, my doctors had told me that I would never run a mile, couldn't lift weights, and would never be able to leave the house without having an inhaler in my purse or pocket because to do so would be risking death.

When I say that I hold a grudge, I think what I really mean is that when people tell me shit like that, I tend to do everything I can to prove them dead wrong.

So, over the last five years, I have built a strong and successful career. I have become a recognized expert in my field, with a great reputation. I went from making $15 an hour to making well into the six figures. I traded in my tiny rented room in New York for a big, beautiful house in an upscale neighborhood in Nashville. The junker I was driving that would occasionally die at the worst times was sold off and replaced with a new SUV with all the bells and whistles.

And to top it all off, I got myself to a point where I was running five miles every morning and didn't have a second thought about my asthma.

I fixed everything but my severe trust issues.

Two years ago, I met a guy named Mike. We had a lot in common: he works in tech, loves dogs, loves movies, and is a craft beer enthusiast. Great. But I wasn't sure I wanted a relationship at all, as I had been determinedly single and had worked hard to keep myself from getting too close to anyone.

Four months after I met Mike, I got some bad news. My doctor informed me that I needed knee surgery. The surgery was explained to me as a very simple procedure that would take an hour. I'd be able to use crutches for the first three or four days, then I'd be back to full function within two weeks. No big deal.

When I went in for the surgery, I expected Mike to help me back home and help me out the next day, as he had offered. But nothing beyond that.

And then the surgery went very wrong. The procedure that was supposed to take an hour wound up taking half a day. Instead of the minor repair I was told about, the surgeon wound up basically having to rebuild my knee. He described it as the worst damage he had ever seen that wasn't from a single, traumatic incident like machinery accidents.

The recovery I was looking at was this: fourteen weeks before I could put any weight on my left leg whatsoever, six more weeks with severe restrictions and crutches, and very extensive recovery time. My knee still isn't back to full function.

With that kind of a medical situation, I expected Mike to take me home, help me get set up, then maybe call one of my friends to come help me out. After all, he'd only been dating me for about four months, and that was not at all what he had signed up for.

When they released me from the hospital, Mike drove me home and got me settled. He then left... and drove to his house, packed up a large suitcase, grabbed his dog, and moved into my house for the duration of my recovery.

If you'd like to know how to earn someone's trust, that'll do it.

In a little over three weeks, Mike and I are flying to Charleston, where we will be exchanging vows in a public park while surrounded by family. We have a very good life, and right now it is very full with work, wedding stuff, trying to get back into running, and talk of starting a family soon.

I do still occasionally write, but it's almost entirely original fiction. When I do get hit with a wave of nostalgia, I go through and poke at old fan fiction to make some edits and wonder why I stopped writing. But I no longer feel the pleasure and enjoyment that I used to while writing.

I'll leave this for now. Maybe someday I'll be back. Maybe I won't.

In the meantime, if anyone needs to get a hold of me, just shoot me a note. Cheers.

[unfriendlies]

okay so i'm at my old neighbor's house with my dogs, she's also my mom's best friend's older sister so it's not weird me being here, while somebody is at our house (long story, don't wanna explain). and i was told that i'd be here alone so me being here with five dogs, outside of the three that already live here, would be no problem. but the lady who is renting the room in the basement came home and started making a huge fuss about me being there because she "wakes up early for work" and now is when she sleeps so one of my dogs barking was a problem for her. i told her i'd be gone in like a hour (now it should be around a half hour), nobody was supposed to come home in the four hour time frame i'd be here. so now i'm sitting with my dogs in crates in our rental car (bc our car still hasn't been fixed over a month after it broke down) in the driveway of the house i should be sitting inside while it's raining and i'm just mad.

like i'd be less upset if this woman was at least nice to me about my being there but she just kept screaming and cursing at me, as if she owned this house and wasn't just renting a small room in the basement, as if i didn't get permission from the fucking owner of the house to be there. but here i am still trying to be nice and considerate by locking my dogs and myself up inside this car just so she can have some quiet.

oh, and my one dog, who is a miniature dachshund and only weighs 7lbs, only barked when her huge ass great dane started barking first. so the real issue isn't even me being there but how my dog reacted after her dog started to bark. my dog wouldn't have barked at all if she had better control over her own dog. put a muzzle on the dog or turn the volume up on whatever it is that you're listening to down there. i had something playing on my laptop, a giant fan running because the house doesn't have central air, and there was a closed door blocking sound as well. don't let your huge ass dog come to the top of the steps so it can hear everything going on up on the main floor.

you want someone to be considerate of you, try being considerate yourself. i'm not sure how long you've known the owner of this house but i've literally known her my entire life. all 31 years. she's basically like my family, her brother is my god father, her niece was my childhood best friend, i'd spend every single weekend with them growing up and basically every day with them during all holiday breaks. my mom has known her since she was in high school. i don't care if you're paying to stay there, go pay to stay somewhere else if you don't want to deal with the home owner's allowed visitors.

[keneestorytimelibrary]

CHAPTER 2

“Gurl, I wish I fucked them up more!" Caden said angrily, as he slouched over his small kitchen counter. He had just finished updating me on what happened after I left, and what their “punishments” were. Danny and Veronica received final warnings, with a four day suspension. Caden walked out with a three day suspension, and his first warning. Jack wanted to fire me for walking out on a shift, but Ryan decided otherwise. It didn't bother me as much if they did fire me; I don’t plan on working with Danny or Veronica again.

"But besides that bullshit, tell me exactly what you did!” Caden demanded in a drunken slur. He had already finished his fifth glass of Pinot Grigio, and was pouring his sixth. I was slumped over his small couch, trying to keep myself together. The empty gallon of Cookies and Cream ice cream and empty bottle of Jameson meant that I was going to have a “fun” morning tomorrow.

“Cade, you should have seen the mess I made in his apartment!” I exclaimed, my eyes fixed to the floor. For some reason, I couldn’t muster up the strength to lift them. I kept my eyes fixated on the small dent Caden made months ago when he decided to wear red Peep-Toe Mary Janes for Halloween. The cheap floor caved in the second he walked on it with heels.

“Rockey, YOU should have seen Danny's face when he and Veronica left the restaurant! I swear Danny shitted himself when he saw what happened to his car!” Caden rejoiced as he recounted the look of horror Danny had plastered all over his face. “The dumb ass is probably still there crying…”

‘I would have paid money to see Danny’s face…’ I thought to myself. The thought brought a small smile...and tears to my face. I thought I had gotten over the need to cry years ago, after my grandpa died. Guess not…

Caden stumbled over to me, and jumped onto the other side of the couch, landing on my feet. I made some room for him, though it was a bit difficult. After walking for hours, I had lost feeling on both legs. The air became heavy, as if I was being cornered in a hoarder's house. I knew he wanted to “talk”...

“Rockey...babe...I am so sorry this happened…” Caden said, reaching out to grab my hand. I could only squeeze his hand back; I didn’t have the energy to do anything else.

“Why do guys cheat?” I asked, not expecting an answer from Caden. It was mainly a question that I wanted to ask myself. “Like, was I not enough? Did I mean nothing to him?!” Caden remained quiet, allowing my thoughts to run wild outside my mind.

I felt my body lift itself off the couch, and I found myself stumbling across Caden’s living room. Thankfully his roommate was gone for the night; I knew that my little performance would not be quiet to any degree.

“I mean, I work THREE FUCKING JOBS to help pay rent, and put gas in his car! I bought him so many things, including his stupid ass video games! I spent so much money on him, thinking that I was building a future! I lost so many years because of him. What the fuck am I? A 27 year old slob with no degree, and no place to stay!” I was screaming at the top of my voice; the thought of Caden’s neighbor was the last thing on my mind.

“But don’t think I didn’t get even! I fucked up his entire apartment! I sprayed painted EVERYTHING inside. I destroyed all of his appliances and burned his clothes in the park outside. And I smashed his video games and Play Station. I even sold his Macbook to cop weed!” The more I spoke, the stronger the urge was to cry. I didn’t want to...I didn’t want to admit how hard Danny affected me. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction…

Caden jumped up from the couch, and slowly made his way to me. "FUCK MEN! Men are nothing but dogs! You deserve so much better!” He exclaimed. Caden could care less if his neighbor’s called the cops.

My phone began to ring, bringing me back to reality. Caden and I looked at my phone as if it were a foreign object. I had left my phone on top of the three bags I brought over. There was nothing but clothes, underwear, and my grandpa’s possessions. Whatever I couldn’t carry, I gave away. The walk from Danny’s apartment to Caden’s was two hours that I will never get back. And the walk from one side of Newark to the other was fun.

We looked at it for a few more seconds, before I stumbled over to it. As I neared it, I noticed Danny’s picture. ‘He was calling…?’

“What the fuck does he want!?” Caden demanded as he saw Danny’s picture.

“Maybe to curse my life out after the mess I made?” I said laughing. “The fucker deserved it…” I felt my hands move on their own, and before I could process what was going on, I answered the call.

“What the fuck do you want you lying piece of fucking shit!?” I yelled. Caden was beside me, trying to grab the phone. For some unknown reason, I did what I could to hold onto it.

“Rockey, baby can we please talk?!” Danny pleaded. It sounded like he was crying for hours. It was a neat trick he used before to get me to forgive him. I could feel a heavy feeling growing at the pit of my stomach, and I had this growing urge to hug and comfort him. Thank God he was not here…

“Just tell me Danny...why?” I asked. I could hear my voice crack. I was going to cry. “What have I done to deserve this?!”

Silence. I could barely hear Danny breathing. Caden stopped as well, as if he wanted to know the answer to the question as well.

“Have I not supported you? Was I not attractive anymore…?” My tears began to fall, and my words were getting harder to understand. “Was it because I was always working? Did she give you something that I didn’t? Did she make you feel special?!” I could barely hold myself together. It sounded as if I was choking on a fruit that would not go down my throat.

“Rockey...please I can’t understand you when you’re like this…” Danny said softly. I pulled the phone away from me, trying my hardest to collect myself. I hated how he made me feel like I was acting like a fool.

After a few minutes of silence, I brought the phone back to my ear. “Understand this…In a few years when you are alone, wondering why there is nothing good going on in your life, I want you to think of this moment. I want you to think of what could’ve happened. I want you to ask yourself why you allowed yourself to go astray. I hope that at that moment you understand the pain you put me through. I want you to understand how alone and humiliated I feel right now. I want you to waste years wishing you did not give up on us. I want you to feel this fucking agony. Then, and only then, are you allowed to call me and ask to talk! Until then, go fuck yourself you fucking cock-sucking, dirty ass FUCKWEASEL!” With that, I hung up the phone and threw it against the wall.

I collapsed onto the floor, crying harder than I have ever done. I hated this feeling! I hated feeling vulnerable and low. All I wanted to do was crawl under a rock and die; anything was better than this.

Caden rushed over to me, comforting me as best he could. “Rockey, listen to me… This pain is only temporary.” He brought my eyes to meet him, as he wiped away my tears. “Honey, Life went ahead and showed you that he was not meant for you. Lessons learned are not a waste of time. Feeling this pain, and embracing it, is going to make you stronger. You have a fighting spirit, and at times you are going to have to be tested. It is going to suck, but I know that you are going to pull through. And before long, you are going to look back at this moment and realize that everything you’ve been through has led you to a better future. A future where you learn to love yourself again. Where you learn to let go of your fears and anger. And when you learn that everything is going to be ok, you will find someone who deserves to be with you. Someone who appreciates the little things you do for them. Someone who won’t give you up so easily. Until then, remember you always have me.”

I gave Caden a weak smile, but it was enough for him. He gave me a hug and continued to hold me until I fell asleep. Whether I was ready for it, Life was going to continue pushing forward. I knew at some point, I was going to have to get up and move alongside it.

[moosebloodtrash]

I’m hurting and I don’t know where to put it anymore. I watch sick pets get crazy amounts of donations, often far beyond their goal; meanwhile I’m four years into my job search. My teeth are rotting and I’m constantly sick, my family has abandoned me for being queer, and I’m trying to keep me and a partner fed on the amount of assistance for one person. Legal grey areas are hell when it comes to public services.

I have reached out for help over and over from in person resources and e-begging. I still have extremely little to no support. If one little thing happens in my living situation? I’ll go right on the streets 100%.

I remember the embarrassment I subjected myself to e-begging when I was literally starving, asking popular blogs to reblog since I was that desperate at the time and already hadn’t eaten in two days when I made the post. And this was six to eight years ago, longer than my job search. I am still struggling now to feed myself on so little while my partner’s relatives watch us starve and have gotten angry at us for asking for help with extremely small things like bus fare + yelling at us any time we’re taken to the store for “taking too long” to grocery shop. They have threatened to call the cops to throw us out on the street a good handful of times because we aren’t getting our lives together fast enough despite knowing nothing about the city we live in now + refusing to tell us where anything is or talk to us like adults to figure it out; it always results in us being yelled at for not already knowing.

We get yelled at frequently while in the bathroom if any of them need it at the exact moment we are in the bathroom. This is resulting in medical problems in both me and my partner. We cannot shower since we absolutely get yelled at for that too. I told emergency room staff what was going on at home but since there was no hitting involved the nurses dropped it and wouldn’t listen to another word.

I clean up after the family like I’m property. And I mean they shit and piss on the seat and then get mad at me when I tell them to clean up their mess. They cannot be asked to control their pets since the eldest relative has a little crazy dog that I have not done more than throw a shoe at because every time he sees anyone else in the house he runs at them with teeth out snarling and barking. This dog has known us for five or so years now and we keep being nice to him to no avail he keeps trying to bite us, chase us, or bark literally off and on at nothing or an open door for HOURS (I counted once and the dog barked from 8:34am until 11:26pm; yes I’m fucking serious.)

I was forced to watch my own cat pass away after I lost my income because one of the relatives thinks shelters are jail for animals and are somehow inherently cruel. Yes they were refusing to drive me to a shelter for my cat, literally looked me in the eyes and told me they won’t take me. So the alternative was watching my beloved cat of over a decade slowly degrade and eventually die at home of complications when it could’ve been avoided.

We have both had to argue for our literal lives due to negligence. My partner was entering sepsis from a separate issue and had to ARGUE with their parent to have said parent take them to the emergency room at all. Now theyre stuck with lifelong medical complications that could’ve been avoided. I had double pneumonia and had coughed some of my stomach into my esophagus, the older relative abandoned us at home with no car and no way to get help. My partner had to scream at their relatives to have them get me a lyft to the hospital and I was made to feel guilty over that too. According to the emergency room doctor I would’ve drowned in my own lungs that night had I went to sleep.

I just want to pass away at this point. No one cares about me and I’m tired of being in pain and smoking back to back just to cope with all of this. I hope for mercy and a bullet to my head.

[percontaion-points]

Delicious Monsters chapters 13 & 14

Today's review might be difficult for some; reader discretion is advised

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Click here for the rest of the series!

Chapter 13

We’d come all the way out here for this house. This beautiful, amazing house where Mom had spent those elusive summers she’d never thought to mention. But I couldn’t go in by myself. 

’Cause that made sense.

I bit the inside of my cheek. 

There was something in there that she didn’t want me to see. A secret. Something she wanted to keep hidden like everything else in her life. That was the only reason that tracked. 

In Brittany’s POV, they’re talking about the Daisy of past-tense, who murdered several people in the house.

But from where I’m sitting, Daisy is a victim of years of abuse and neglect from practically every single person in her life. 

His hair was in its usual style, curls popping and juicy…

She says “his usual style” as if this isn’t the second time she’s seen him. 

“What’s a four-wheeler?” 

King openly laughed at me. Like my question was the most hilarious thing he had been asked in a while. I was suddenly glad that I hadn’t also asked what a Ski-Doo was. Once he’d composed himself, he smiled. Bright and shiny. Like a magazine cover. “You’re really like born and bred Toronto, eh?” 

“Yeah, well.” 

“It’s like… It’s hard to describe. Google it.” 

It’s honestly not that hard. It’s like a motorised dirt-bike with four wheels. 

Maybe I shouldn’t have. The dog would have loved me back.

Chapter 13 summary: Later, Daisy goes to the greenhouse, which is mostly dead from neglect. As she looks around to get started, King shows up with a wheelbarrow for her to use. He offers to help, but she’s randomly nasty towards him for no real reason. (It’s the years of systematic abuse talking.) He says that the house is dangerous, and that it’s why his family wants to get in and “cleanse” it. 

He leaves, so she gets to work clearing things out. He comes back after a bit with some trash bags for her, so she asks him to help her clear out on the other side. As they work, she asks him about how his family claims to be psychic. From her perspective of being able to see the dead, it’s an awful lot like Harry Potter with his real magic looking down his nose at Harry Houdini for his stage magic. 

King explains to her that when the family first came to the area two generations ago, it was a quick way to get involved in the community. Now, the family wears the traditional Nigerian garb because they think that it’ll add legitimacy to their claims. Their real surname isn’t even Okeke, but they adopted it in an effort to try and reclaim their roots. However, King scoffs over the idea, since none of them know if they’re even from Nigeria or not. 

Daisy is only impressed that they can pretend so well. Her own grandmother came over from Trinidad as a child and immediately shucked all of her prior culture in order to fit in. 

She asks if he’s going to continue the family tradition, but he says no. Asks if she does everything her mother asks her to do. She says no. That the only thing she’s ever wanted to do is to care for her plants. 

She then tells the readers that when she was 9, she asked her mom for a dog. Grace got her a monstera plant instead, with the idea that if she could keep the plant alive, she could get a dog. It died. So Daisy got another one, which she researched heavily on how to keep it alive. That turned into multiple plants. Grace then said that Daisy wasn’t going to have time to care for her plants AND a dog, but Daisy said that she no longer wanted a dog. 

Chapter 14

“We’re really not going to go inside the house?” 

“If necessary, we will. And it’s not currently necessary.” Mom let out an exasperated breath and leaned back on her stool, balancing on the back legs. “I’m not going to have this conversation with you over and over.”

That isn’t a fucking explanation. 

“I just don’t understand how we’re going to run this whole operation like this.”

 “You don’t have to, Daisy!” she cried. Her voice was strained. “I’m the adult. Let me worry about it. All you have to do is manage the garden, go to school, and… you know. That’s it. Just be a kid.” 

This was not how this was supposed to go. 

There were the plans Mom and I made, and now, apparently, there were alternative plans that she made on her own. Ones where I was less of a helper and more of a bystander. Leaving her the sole responsibility of making this business work.

It’s not so much that I disagree that children should be allowed to simply be children. Even 17 year old children. 

But at the same time… This entire situation is super suspicious and terrible. Daisy is right to be on edge. 

“This isn’t like Toronto. I don’t need you to support me. I’m going to handle this.”

You can’t go for the first 17 years of somebody’s life expecting for them to take care of you. And then do an about-face and suddenly tell them that it’s not the job of the child to take care of the parent… Only to be surprised that you’re getting push-back from them about it!

I woke up the next morning with the distinct feeling of an itch on my scalp, and when I reached up, something moved under the probing of my fingers. Goose pimples danced over my skin. I should get up. Needed to get up. I had to check. But at the same time, I couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t want to. 

[...]

“Is there anything on my head?” I whispered. 

“Stop it!” she shouted. The sound was too loud in the small space, echoing through the high ceilings. “We are not going to do this again. Get it together. You know what’s real and what’s not, don’t you? Because if you don’t, then we can leave right now and skip over you imploding.”

Grace: Her psychotic break came out of nowhere! There were no signs leading up to it at all!

But then again, King could kiss my ass. He would probably enjoy it too.

Chapter 14 summary: Daisy and King wrap up in the greenhouse and start to leave when they come across Grace returning with some groceries. King leaves after Daisy makes it clear that he is no longer welcome there anymore. Inside the guesthouse (I refuse to call it a “bunkie”, in the same way I refuse to call it “chicky nuggies”), Grace tells her that she’s arranged for a local farmer to have orders of food ready to be picked up; the new house is too far away for delivery. 

Daisy and Grace get into an argument over why they aren’t to set foot in the actual house. Grace insists that now is the time for Daisy to be a child, and to let Grace “handle things”. However, the parentification and adult-incompetence is immense; Daisy is scarred from a lifetime of needing to pick up the slack from her mother in order to avoid late fees and overdraft fees. Ugh. 

The next morning, Daisy wakes up to the sensation of a maggot moving around on her head once again. Grace comes in to say that she’s going to go smooth over the butthurt feelings of their neighbours. While she’s gone, the photographer will likely show up, so Daisy is to let him into the house without Daisy herself going in. The entire thing is beyond stupid. 

Daisy asks if there’s anything on her head, but Grace gets beyond angry at her. Tells her to separate fact from fiction. She then leaves. 

After a shower, Daisy starts to walk to the greenhouse when she sees a ghost who’s heading for the main house. Daisy decides to take matters into her own hands, so she sticks her hand into the woman’s chest. With her hand in there, Daisy can hear the ghost’s thoughts, which are about I guess the ghost’s (presumably still alive?) baby. Daisy freaks out, and then realises that another neighbour girl, Ivy, had witnessed the entire thing. 

[tary289]

500 Days

Fuck it tehe, i wrote this in like 20 minutes take it, its word vomit, and uber bad but i dont really care cause its like about to be 1 am and im still not tired, lots of twd referances cause i love that, judge me, be cruel, kinda wanna see how bad it really is, protagonist is unnamed cause im very bad at names.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I woke from my slumber, like every other person. I checked my digital watch, and it read Wednesday, August 8th, 6:02 AM. The watch didn't say the year, but that was fine, as that information was not yet bygone to me. 

Mudi was still asleep next to me, my only friend while the world ended, he's such a good dog.

I rose from the comfort of my mattress and just lurked for a few minutes, eventually I heard Mudi rise too, and he came running for his food which I had already placed into his bowl. Today was day 500, a milestone if you will. I would be lost trying to tell how long it's been with just the watch, so I've been keeping track of money which now holds no value.

One day is one more penny into the tray, after five days the pennies are replaced with one nickel, after 10 days the nickels were replaced with one dime, 25 days and the two dimes and one nickel became a quarter and so on, I replaced the twin two dollar, three quarters, 2 dimes and four pennies with a five dollar bill. It's reminiscent of a collection basket I would witness go down the pew I sat in and when it reached me I would swiftly put in some pennies I dug up from the couch cushions at home. 

With a newfound wakeful mind, I collected my things and left out the door, Mudi shortly behind me. The birds greeted me with their songs as I and company went to the nearby river to collect fish, which I loathed. This life may keep me humble, and humble I've become. I used to loathe the taste of seafood, but now I look forward to it, although perhaps that's because of the lack of any other food.

I had a comfortable schedule, in the dawn I fished, not with a fishing rod. No, that's too tedious, I employ a sharpened pool cue, technically a spear. It's my instrument. But I still know not what my symphony is.

Time passed, bucket filled, legs waterlogged. It was time to return home. I’ll bore you not with details, I placed the fish into my makeshift salt box and continued on with my schedule.

Checking on the water collectors on the roof, and they were all fine and untouched, but I needed something to occupy myself with so I left to find something else. I could raid some more of the town, make my ever-growing collection of canned goods grinder, find some new literature, maybe some more clothes, medical supplies would be nice as I've only really found prescription drugs for some pain which I lack.

So with Mudi at my side we go into the small township which is Blackwood. I never knew this place before it all, it's funny how the end of the world caused me to migrate across the country. I always knew this town as devoid of people, just Mudi and I.

We spent the rest of the day going through buildings, collecting anything which could be of use, books, magazines, canned foods, clothes, medicine, alcohol (for when I'm of age of course), vinyls, a little bit of everything really. I finally found a vinyl I've been looking for, “Just the two of us” by Grover Washington. It was my parent's favorite, sadly I lack the necessary materials to play it but It's nice to have.

My day was done as the sun rested, the most important part of the day was upon me, messages to others. I lit the bonfire I constructed on my house's roof, stronger enough so it appears as a small orange glint in the distance from my fellow survivors. And after a few minutes, I saw those five specks appear in the distance. 

The paper with Morse code scribbled onto it in my hand I signaled “SAFE” and I received the same message from the five other lights. Why did we not meet up? Perhaps to not disrupt the life we have cultivated with the complication of others? That's why I remain here, at least.

I put out my fire after cooking dinner, charred lake fish, I put out the fire and saw the other specks disappear. Mudi and I ate on the roof of the warehouse now home, gazing into the stars beyond us.

Then a rumble, Mudi bolts down the stairs of the open door into the safety of our home, I look above and there it is, one of those things, I still don't know if they have an official name but I've dubbed them Drifters, they come and go at random intervals, I've grown used to them, well giant hunks of metal floating in the sky will always be an oddity. They do not bother me as much as they used to.

I kind of like watching them now, as they drift into a destination beyond my sight below the horizon. Though I decide to call it a night, it's spaghetti Thursday tomorrow, just need to find some spaghetti. 

[purplesurveys]

1827

Have you ever been afraid to get up and go to the bathroom? Yes, not because I imagine ghosts or because the night vibes are creepy – but because of cockroaches and lizards, lol. They come out at night and they will occasionally be the first thing you'll see when you switch on the bathroom lights, after which they'll frantically scurry away – and it's exactly the scurrying away that makes me jump back cause 1) you never know what direction they'll run off to, and 2) for cockroaches particularly, they MIGHT FLY.

Do you get any magazines in the mail? No, I was never subscribed to a magazine but this made me remember those little subscription leaflets they'd insert in every issue :') I never used them because we didn't have money for subscriptions.

How many websites do you have an account for? This is probably close to the 100s just because you kinda need an account for nearly every website to access their features.

Have you ever paid for any kind of online membership? Yes - I take care of my family's YouTube, Prime, Disney+, and Viu accounts; my dad covers Netflix. As for personal subscriptions, I have Spotify and a game I regularly play, for their perks lololol. Idk if it counts but there's also an animal shelter that offers a monthly membership tier and I pay for that as well.

Do you try clothes on before you buy them? No, takes too long. I just get my size and hope for the best.

Have you seen The Blindside? Haven't had any interest in watching it tbh, the plot doesn't really appeal to me.

What’s the best movie you’ve seen this year? I have seen a handful of movies this year but haven't thought of any of them as being the 'best' even just for this year. They were all just average hahaha.

Do you know how to fire a gun? Not at all.

What would you do if you knew a robber was in your house? Realistically, I'd take my phone and bolt downstairs to make sure the dogs aren't harmed; to hell with it if it makes me face-to-face with the robber. While protecting them I imagine telling a select trusted circle of relatives to call the cops, then I'll contact them myself.

Have you played the Sims 3, yet? I don't think I have. I've played 2 and 4, though.

What’s your favorite type of pizza? Four-cheese or barbecue.

Do you have a favorite local pizza place? I don't. I've only tried the big joints, and while we have a number of local ones they're all within the Makati area and it's just too far to travel to or even just order delivery from.

What are you afraid of? Physical pain and death of loved ones.

Have you ever been afraid of falling in love? Sure.

How do you let someone know that you like them? In the past, I told them in person and was straightforward about it.

Have you ever asked a friend to ask someone else out for you? Nope.

Who’d you last see in a tux? It was a formal awarding event so all the guys who were there were wearing a tux. Media, athletes, government officials... I don't really feel like expounding any more than that cause it was for work lol.

Were you sad when Tim Urban got sent home on American Idol? I don't remember being too bummed about it. Wasn't he the dude with the acoustic guitar? Not a big fan of the style so it was easy for me to move on lol.

What about Jason Castro, 2 years ago? I did not like Jason Castro as he was another one of the billion dudes who went in and out of that show with a guitar.

Do you record any TV shows and watch them later? We haven't done that since 2007 when Jump In! premiered on the Disney Channel hahaha.

Do you have difficulty pronouncing any words? I'll get tongue-tied with English sometimes but it's never a lasting difficulty.

Would you rather take a shower or a bath? Shower.

How many times do you shower in a week? These days I take a bath pretty much everyday haha so seven.

What brand’s your cell phone? Apple.

Have you ever sexted? Eh, yeah.

How many contacts do you have? A little over 200.

Do you have your own computer? I do.

Out of everyone you know, who was the most heart? Probably Andi. They pursue everything they're passionate about.

Who’s the bravest person you know? My mom is one of them.

Who would you want to have your back if things got tough? Depends on the struggle. There are things I'd rather share with my friends, others I'd rather confide with my dad.

Have your friends ever given you answers to homework, last minute? Yes.

Have you ever dated someone who was real sportsy? Nope.

Are you any good at writing? Yes, I like to write and have always wanted to be in a career where I can keep doing it.

What’s your favorite form of writing? Anything non-fiction. Have you ever given up on someone before? Yup!

Did you end up regretting it later in life? Nope!

Have you ever done something terrible, but took forever to feel bad? Not really.

Have you ever read Shakespeare? Yeah, we had to take some of them up in high school – R&J, The Merchant of Venice, and Macbeth.

What did you dream about last night? I'm not so sure I even dreamed anything. I slept like a rock because I had an extremely exhausting day yesterday.

Have you ever looked up the meaning to a dream? Sure, here and there.

Have you ever tried to change someone? Tried doing it once, never bothering again.

Can anyone really change anyone that doesn’t wanna change? From experience, no.

Do you think that anyone currently has a crush on you? Nope.

What profession do you admire the most? There isn't one I think of as being more significant than others.

Have you ever made a fake profile, for any reason? I don't think I have.

What’s the hardest lesson you’ve ever had to learn? The world will never stop for you, so learn how to be able to do things and deal with emotions on your own. Since my grandfather died in high school and all my teachers did were to reschedule my exams (because I needed to miss a few days to attend to his wake), I've been a bit more guarded and hardened and have tried to stop giving a fuck about other people.

What are you wearing right now? My Se So Neon tour shirt and shorts.

Do you miss your ex? Nope.

What’s the first thing you notice about the opposite sex? Accent. Makes me easily tell if they're one of the rich airheads with no substance, or will be easy to talk to.

Have you ever questioned your sexuality? Sure.

If you could change one thing about your life, what would it be and why? To be old money so I can look at jobs as just side quests that I do for fun, lmao.

[0nlinejournal]

03/31/2023 10:06pm

After some more reflection, I do think a big part of me freaking out when Alex uses the language she does when she's upset is just the left over bodily reactions I'm still plagued with do to growing up around my mother. I still don't necessarily agree with her seemingly trying to guilt trip me, but maybe if I can address that type of language we can both work on it and move past it so we can continue to be friends. I do like her as a friend. She's silly, creative, fun and caring. I've just been struggling with dealing with her when she's not feeling great because right now her mind tends to assume that people are doing things to spite her. Like people are doing things intentionally to upset her, or that them absent mindedly going about their day are them intentionally not including her. I don't know. For now, though, I'd like to drop the topic. Writing about it all has helped me calm down a bit, and I hope that I can improve in my assistance to her in her times of need, and I hope I can have a conversation with her soon so we can better our communication with each other.

Today was a great day. After waking up and running to go clean the shop, I spent the first of the day lounging around in my comfy clothes. I intended to take a nap (I set an alarm and everything), but I ended up getting up to throw on an interrogation video and hang up all my wall hangings that have been piled against a wall in my room. I don't necessarily like what I did, but it'll do for now. I don't have the energy to fix it today.

I left to meet my mother at 4:15pm. It took fifteen minutes to get three exits down the highway. I never get on the highway anymore because of how much traffic there is in my city now. I live in a college town, and the school year always makes the roads a bit more congested, but there's been construction going on for a couple of years that have really brought everything to a near halt. It's also Friday, so even taking the way through town on my way back resulted in slow rolling through crowded streets. I can't wait for summer. I love when all the students leave and the streets clear up.

Seeing my mother was pleasant. Only two unnecessary comments, and with the help of my sister I have trained myself to not take them as hard as a used to. We met up to stop by her boyfriend's stepdad's storage unit. He passed away recently and the three of us (her boyfriend was there too) rummaged through some things. I grabbed a cross stitched image of a cat. Afterwards we stopped at a restaurant to get dinner.

On my way home I stopped by Frank's house to chat for a bit. His roommate, another one of my really good friends, Seb, was there. I ended up chatting with them until about 9pm.

I finished up the laundry I started earlier in the day. I hung everything up. I unloaded the dishwasher and put the dirty dishes in the sink in for a new load. I took the dogs out and fed my boyfriend's sister's cats. Now I'm finishing up that interrogation video and writing this entry.

I love watching interrogation videos. Watching guilty people try to lie is so strange. I think I like to imagine that I would be good at knowing when someone was guilty, but I'm sure that in reality I wouldn't know shit. This guy is so embarrassingly guilty, though. Manipulative piece of shit that ended up murdering his wife. She saw it coming, too. She wrote in her will that if she dies within the next four years to look at her husband. She said she wouldn't kill herself, and even if it looks like she died of natural causes to look into him. He wasn't smart enough to do anything like that, though. She just disappeared, and after agreeing to speak to the cops he got real nervous during their conversation. Started saying that they're accusing him of doing something, when they really really had not started doing anything of the sort at that point. But he's acting so fucking weird during the interview that they just continued questioning him. They had to bring in another investigator because the original cop wasn't planning on talking to him for this long. He's doing this awful fake sniffling thing that really grinds my gears. He clearly doesn't want to talk about his wife, he doesn't want to give away anything that will lock him into a story that he might contradict later. He goes on about work and everything else for so long, but when it comes to answering questions about the potential whereabouts of his wife, or what she was like, or who she hangs out with, he keeps his answers short. Or he says he doesn't really know. At one point he threw out that she was depressed and had suicidal tendencies even though she did not. He is so concerned about himself and getting caught that he can't see how fucking suspicious he looks by caring about her whereabouts less than himself. They don't even know if she's dead yet and he seems like he doesn't care at all if she is. He is so concerned about himself it's icky to watch.

I'm gonna finish up the video and then binge watch the new episodes of Love is Blind, haha.

Goodnight!

10:43pm

[grandmatapati]

Grandma Doesn't Believe Mom's Suicide Attempt Was Genuine

Eighth Grade on Timea Street 1972-‘73

A few weeks before school started my mom attempted suicide. I was at my grandparents’ home and we were just about to sit down to dinner when we got the call. Because Grandma angrily insisted, we went ahead and had dinner before we went to the hospital in Keokuk, 12 miles away from their farm.

I thought it was her first suicide attempt. Later I was to discover that she had made two suicide attempts before I was even conceived. It’s a miracle that I am alive.

Mom was glassy-eyed and somewhat disoriented when we arrived at the hospital. Grandpa Glen (my biological grandfather and grandma’s first husband) was there—he was the one who found her and got her help. There was an uncomfortable meeting between him and my grandma and then he left, after telling us how he found Mom.

I can’t remember what Grandma said to Mom while she was lying in her hospital bed. She rarely dropped her critical attitude so it’s possible that even at this delicate moment she couldn’t resist saying something negative. I have seen her do so while my mom was in the hospital years later, criticizing her weight, so it isn’t a stretch of my imagination to picture this following a suicide. I do remember that Grandma was critical from the moment she got the phone call informing her of my mom’s suicide attempt. She took the attitude right from the beginning that it wasn’t a serious attempt, that my mom just wanted attention.

Perhaps she had this attitude because my mom suffered from Munchausen’s syndrome, a malady that caused her to seek attention by exaggerating her symptoms and receiving medical treatment even when it was not necessary. If only (I have always thought) Grandma could understand that the attention Mom was seeking was hers, that all she wanted was to feel loved by her mother. In Grandma’s mind, however, it was obvious that she loved her daughter and any suggestion that she didn’t show it had her bristling in her own defense.

I was stunned by Mom’s suicide attempt and all the implications of it. I felt guilty that I had spent much of that summer at my grandparents’ farm. I was avoiding spending time with Mom because she was behaving so oddly. I didn’t understand depression, but that was the illness that had stricken her following her hysterectomy the previous winter. It was uncomfortable to be around her and she had let the housework go completely.

With four dogs running around the house this meant a very smelly combination of feces and urine because she couldn’t be bothered to let them out into the back yard regularly to do their business. She had paper-trained them, but she stopped changing the newspapers as they filled up. Once they were full she started doing something we had both criticized when Grandpa Glen did it—put a second layer of newspaper on top of the soiled and urine-soaked first layer. We had rightfully recognized this as a symptom of his depression when he did so, and I was alarmed to see her doing this. I tried a few times to just take care of the newspapers myself but the smell overwhelmed me. I began to spend more and more time in my room when I was home, and to escape to the farm whenever I could.

The night my mom was in the hospital I called my good friend Jeanne Long to tell her what had happened. My grandpa (Jerry Hull, my grandma’s third husband) knew her dad and somehow it was arranged that she come out and spend time with me at the farm to help distract me from this sad event. I remember Jeanne and I stayed in my grandparents’ camper and played music and had dinner there. I was trying hard not to think about my mom’s suicide attempt and for that one night I mostly succeeded.

When my mom got out of the hospital I returned home to watch over her. The first night she was back we had a long, long talk. She was telling me her own life story, one of feeling neglected and unloved by her mother. She was trying to make some sense for me of her attempt, but much of it went over my head and overwhelmed me. Mom was describing deep and primal wounds I had no hope of helping her heal from, yet the very fact that she was telling me about them implied that she needed my help and understanding to stay alive. I didn’t understand these dynamics at the time. All I remember thinking was “Why didn’t she think about what this would do to me?” and “Doesn’t she love me?”

Mom began counseling at this time and her medications were changed. She had overdosed on depression medications in the first place, so I worried about what she would do with her new bottle and began a longstanding practice of checking the level of pills in her bottle. I am surprised in retrospect that I wasn’t given ongoing counseling along with Mom but I think the practice of family counseling was in its infancy at that time.

Just a few weeks after Mom’s attempt I started 8th grade in the local Junior High school. Our Junior High at that time consisted of 7th, 8th, and 9th grades, and our High school had the remaining three grades. It was somewhat unusual because Junior High or Middle school usually is 6th, 7th, and 8th grades. Our school was a large three story building with a one story addition added on to the front of the building, facing Main Street. Over the years the school was a High School, then a Junior High, then a Middle School. With new buildings taking its place, first as a High School then as a Junior High/Middle School, it outlived its usefulness and required more maintenance than it was worth. It was an old drafty building with an ancient heating system and probably also needed electrical upgrades.

How I remember running up and down the staircases on either side of the building, trying to make it to my next class. When I was crash dieting, I used to get dizzy on the stairs and nearly pass out. I’d put my head down and blood would flow back and finally I would feel better and continue up the stairs.

My mom took me to Iowa City to get checked out because she thought I might have epilepsy. They did lots of tests and took a history—but failed to ask me what I was eating, which was school lunch--period. I didn’t make the connection myself until years later when I read Mark Mathabane’s book Kaffir Boy, where he told the story of how he would faint when he was starving. He described the way his visual field changed just before he would pass out and it was exactly like my experience. Then I thought back to my crash dieting and realized that’s what caused my dizzy spells all those years ago.

My classes for eighth grade were Social Studies, Math, Gym, Glee club, Choir, Spanish, and Science. Eighth grade was the year of my “crush” on Frank Komatar. It was the year I asked to go to church with a few friends because I wanted to find the Truth with a capital T. It was the year I got to know Debbie and Cheryl Washburne who lived just a few blocks away from me, and we began to spend a lot of time together. I got thrown together with their boyfriends’ pal, Lou Shupe. He was a nice enough guy but moved too fast for me. I shied away from the older boys who I knew mainly wanted one thing. But that didn’t stop me from spending nearly all my spare time after school with Frank Komatar. I would go to the science lab at 3:30 when school let out and often we would walk out together at 5 p.m. We spent our time talking about religion and philosophy and teasing each other with zinging one-liners. We kept score. It was the fashion on some comedies for the characters to draw a line in the air for points, and we adopted that method.

I will say more about Frank Komatar elsewhere but our relationship was a thread that ran throughout that year of my life and beyond, and cannot be ignored. I spent a great deal of time “mooning” over Frank and listening to love songs. At least it provided distraction from my disintegrating home life. It was only later that I realized he should have set more boundaries or consulted with our guidance counselors rather than spend so much time with me.

Mom slipped ever deeper into depression despite counseling. I would guess that she struggled constantly with suicidal thoughts. I honestly can’t remember how many suicide attempts she made in total. During the remainder of my teen years there were a few and she went to the hospital each time. When she wasn’t overdosing on her medications she simply sat in her chair, day after day, wearing the same dirty night gown and smoking cigarettes. She would read or watch TV with her dogs gathered on her lap.

The kitchen deteriorated with dirty dishes in a slimy muck in the sink. I could barely stand to go in there. The stench overwhelmed me. I stopped eating at home most of the time, and when hunger drove me to the kitchen I would make myself a half-sandwich of pickles and catsup. I couldn’t set anything down so I put a slice of bread in one hand, poured catsup with the other, then placed the pickles and folded the bread over. Voila! Depression cuisine! I figured the bread was safe from the dirt and grime of the kitchen because it was wrapped in plastic.

The dogs were still being allowed to fill up newspapers with urine and feces and the entire downstairs reeked with the stench. I went downstairs only when I had to. There were a few TV programs I really cared about so I sometimes sat downstairs with my mom to watch them. I used perfume to drown out some of the smell.

Upstairs we had the bathroom and our two bedrooms, and a hall closet. I kept the bathroom clean because of course I had to use it. I learned to scrub the tub and use the toilet brush. The floor didn’t get bad upstairs—at least the dogs seemed to understand that the newspaper area downstairs was where they were supposed to be going, even if my mom allowed them to fill up.

I might have tried harder to keep everything together if someone had explained depression to me as an illness. I was too young to realize Mom wasn’t just being lazy. I really resented her that year, after the shock of her suicide attempt wore off. I began to wish I could live somewhere else. I was aware by then of foster families because my aunt Gin had taken a boy in. His name was Carl and he was a teenager she had met when she worked at the County Home. The County Home was a place where poor elderly people were cared for and one wing was given over to troubled teens.

I imagined a stable home with two parents. As usual, my father wasn’t in the picture. One would think I could just ask to go live with him if my mother were so ill. Given that he never contacted me or kept in regular touch, I couldn’t picture that. If I was going to go live with a stranger, I thought, it would be easier to live with a complete stranger rather than this parent who had made himself a stranger throughout my life. Once in awhile I would run into him around town. He would put on a show and make a fuss over me, insist on a hug, and so on.

I got to the point where I so despised what I saw as hypocrisy that I avoided him if I saw him before he saw me. These encounters left me with a life long distaste for fake displays of emotion. I won’t even sign a letter with the word “love” unless I genuinely feel it.

I was feeling trapped in a depressing home with a depressed parent. Only recently have I thought to compare my experience with that of Adult Children of Alcoholics. I suspect that books on the subject would resonate strongly with me. As my mom slipped ever deeper into her depression I began to take a parental role with her. I would tell her after a few days that she needed to bathe, for example. I wanted to fix her but I had no idea how or what exactly was wrong.

I complained to my Grandma at times. This was also the year my grandparents sold their farm and joined Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Wayne in Wayland, Missouri where they also opened an antique store. They advertised their dual or perhaps dueling antique stores together, putting signs on barns and taking out ads.

It broke my heart when they sold the farm. I always felt like the farmhouse was my home. It was another blow in a difficult year. I don’t think they ever knew how much it hurt to see it go. I lost my rock, my home base, the one constant place in my life.

Grandma also opened up to me and aired some of her long-term grievances concerning Mom. I’m not sure what she was thinking, but she told me that many times when I was a baby my mom called her in the middle of the night, threatening to kill me and then herself. I have no idea why she didn't call the police, but Grandma said that she would jump in her car and drive the twelve miles into town, terrified of what she might find. I suspect this is the reason my grandparents bought a trailer for us to live in and moved it onto their farm. It was about 50 feet across the yard from Grandma’s house, and of course I could be found bopping back and forth between the two. We lived there for a couple of years, give or take six months. The trailer was 8x40 feet. We kept it until I was in third grade, when we traded up for a larger trailer.

I never knew at the time how much of Grandma’s stories about my mom were true. I knew there were longstanding problems between them. I had a hard time imagining my mom planning to kill me. I figured if she said such things, she was trying to get my grandma’s attention. This was a recurring theme in her life and even then I could see that she was desperate for Grandma to show her love in some tangible way. I found Grandma’s stories shocking and really wished she’d stop. I felt like a pawn in their war with each other.

During the winter I began to talk about asking to be removed from my home. My mom called Aunt Dorothy in a panic and she came over to help talk me out of it. Aunt Dorothy was really angry and I remember at one point when she felt I was being disrespectful to my mom she smacked me in the face, throwing me off balance and knocking me down onto the couch.

They arranged for me to stay with Aunt Dorothy and my cousins Teresa and Carolyn for the weekend. All weekend long they told me that I should take care of my mom and that if I left and she killed herself it would be my fault and I'd never forgive myself. That was how things were done in my family--manipulation and guilt trips. I returned home and tried to make the best of it.

Teresa at least came to help clean and for awhile I kept it up by myself but gradually I couldn't cope with the dogs and the rest of it and retreated to my room again. I spent as much time as I could out with friends or at neighbor's homes, sometimes using their phones to talk with my friends. (I had some great neighbors who empathized with a teenage girl who had no phone.)

A few months later the mental health department arranged for a one-time visit from a home health aide to clean the kitchen. Really we could have used her help regularly but it was nice to have some help. But soon mom would let things go and it would go back to filth and cockroaches running everywhere. I kept my room spotless because I had such a phobia of bugs in general and cockroaches in particular.

My mom stopped doing laundry most of the time and I remember trying to wash out my few pairs of socks and never feeling that I got them clean enough. I also hand washed my underwear and tried to keep my school clothes as clean as possible. I worried that the odor of the house would penetrate my clothing so I came home and changed clothes right away so they stayed in my room.

I kept my room smelling nice by spraying perfume on the light bulb. My room was like an oasis of cleanliness and sanity. I would sit at my vanity and write poetry and stories. While I wrote a lot about suicide, I didn’t write anything about my mom’s mental breakdown. I don’t think I knew what to say about it all. I was overwhelmed and bewildered. Then I would go to school and deal with the ridicule and scorn of most of my peers. I only got through it with the help of my friends and I bless them for their kindness and concern.

Our time in that duplex came to a close when the dining room ceiling collapsed and the landlord--who lived next door--came in to get it fixed. He took one look at the state of our home and immediately evicted us. My mom fell apart, sobbing and not knowing what to do and once again I became the parent. I told her if she sold some of her dogs to her friend Alice, I could keep our new apartment clean. She could visit them and not lose them completely that way. I told her I couldn't clean up after all of them by myself but with just one I could manage. It amazed me but she agreed. We moved at the beginning of summer, just after the end of eighth grade.

[subtletruamadumping]

A Pitch Black Room, A Velvet Ribbon, A Secret Box

______________________________________________________________

This was my first year doing NaNoWriMo. It started as a writing prompt (the title is literally just the prompt) and it's a collection of short stories from many different peoples' perspectives linked by various objects. I won this year but never looked back at it. In fact, I am kind of embarrassed by it but I try to remind myself I was literally a child. Instead of being broken up into chapters, it's broken into characters.

Written in November 2016

______________________________________________________________

Part 1, Arthur

Fagan had brought the box home that day. He had taken it to his room, pitch black because of the lack of light bulbs. Arthur Tyler, his father, had given him a flashlight to see by when he needed to. He wasn’t going to spend more money than was necessary on the ungrateful, little wretch that wandered around his house. He had also noticed the box, but he hadn’t cared enough to comment on it. He had thought he had been so sneaky, carrying it in his backpack up the stairs. Seriously, though, did he expect his dad wouldn’t question a large, square bulge in his backpack? Mrs. White hadn’t called in a few days, so he had gone back to ignoring Fagan. He wondered if other parents had ever had a kid that was so useless, stupid, weak, and annoying. The kid whimpered more than any dog Arthur had even known. He whimpered more than the most cowardly dog in a thunderstorm. He couldn’t believe he had gotten stuck with him. The woman he had loved, Fagan’s mother, had left him only a year after he was born. Now, everything that reminded Arthur of her sparked hatred in his heart. Fagan was an unfortunate part of that.

Financially ruined by the sudden break up of the marriage, Arthur was forced to move back in with his own parents. Thus, he had become the family embarrassment. He was the only one who hadn’t had a successful marriage and the only one who couldn’t support himself and a child. His siblings mocked him and his parents pitied him. He hadn’t spoken to any of them since the day he had moved out again.

Fagan hadn’t been old enough to understand, but it didn’t matter. If he hadn’t had a kid that he had to take care of when the marriage broke up, he wouldn’t have been so bad off. Another things that was suddenly blamed on Fagan: the break up of the marriage, living with his parents, his fall from grace, being broke and anything else Arthur could think of. Fagan wasn’t even four, yet. Arthur began to blame absolutely all of his problems on Fagan. It was his stupid kid’s fault he had lost his last job. It was also his fault that no new job would hire him. It was Fagan’s fault that the car’s tire had gone flat for no reason. It was Fagan’s fault Arthur couldn’t get remarried. It was Fagan’s fault Arthur’s life was in shambles. What other possible explanation was there?

And now, the brat was always causing trouble in school. He just had to do more annoying things and always be in trouble. Like the incident with the stupid box that was now upstairs in his room. Arthur couldn’t believe he had been burdened with something as awful as this. Not to mention Fagan was the most ungrateful kid in the entire universe. All he ever did was whine and cry about things. Kids were useless. He didn’t understand why anyone had them.

Arthur grunted as he reached for the remote. He hated this channel. Why was the remote so far away? Fagan had probably moved it. He was probably trying to get him back for being yelled at. Arthur made a note to tan his hide the next chance he got. Maybe, some day, some sense would be knocked into that head of his. Maybe, he’d stop being so irritating and just do as he was told. Maybe he’d run away, like he usually did, but never come back.

Arthur gave a mirthless laugh as he finally managed to secure the remote. That would probably be the best thing that could happen to him. If Fagan suddenly disappeared, he wouldn’t have to waste so much money on the pathetic imp. He wouldn’t have to buy food for two. He wouldn’t have to listen to teacher complain. He wouldn’t have to discipline an annoying brat. He could probably find a woman that would marry him. His life would be so much better. To bad it wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

Arthur flicked through the channels until he got to his favorite game show. He liked to watch people make a fool of themselves on public television. It was a small victory he could have against the cruelness of the world. He might have a terrible life, but at least the world didn’t think that he was stupid. Of course, Arthur imagined himself as the most brilliant person in the world. He just knew that, if he had been in any of these people’s positions, he would win every time. Sure, he didn’t always know the answer, but he knew enough to be able to make out with plenty of money. How does one even get to be on a game show, anyway? You probably can’t have a dumb kid. Fagan would probably just ruin it.

As if on command, he heard a soft step behind him. Fagan. Great.

“What do you want?” He snapped without turning around. Fagan had probably jumped, because he heard the quick intake of breath that the kid made whenever he was surprised. There was silence, but Arthur didn’t hear him walk away. He turned to see the brat standing in the hallway, staring at him.

“I said, what do you want?” He snapped louder.

“I was just going to get something to eat.” Fagan said quietly, looking down at his feet.

“Didn’t you eat just a while ago?”

“No.”

“Then, what were you doing downstairs?”

“I was coming home from school.”

“Well, why didn’t you eat then so you didn’t have to bother me now?”

“You’re just watching T.V.”

“Are you back sassing me?”

“No.”

“I’m pretty sure you were back sassing me just now.”

“I wasn’t!” He said quickly “I’m sorry, dad.”

“Get some food and get out of my sight.” Arthur grunted. Fagan scampered into the kitchen and Arthur turned his attention back to the T.V. He could hear Fagan rummaging around, but tried to ignore it. Maybe he would eat something that was expired and die. He couldn’t get in trouble for that, could he? It wasn’t like he had fed the kid gross food. The imp had eaten it himself. It says on the package when you aren’t allowed to eat it anymore. It wasn’t his fault the kid was such an idiot he would eat rotten food. Nothing could be done about it. And then, Arthur would be free again.

Of course, Arthur would never straight up murder Fagan. He didn’t want to spend time in jail. Which was the reason Fagan wasn’t allowed to talk about his dad at school. Arthur was well aware that there were people out there who didn’t believe in hitting their kids for discipline. Though he disagreed with them (obviously), he wasn’t planning on going to jail over it. And Fagan was so dumb he couldn’t figure out that anything was wrong. That was one good thing about him. He never told anyone, no matter how much Arthur “disciplined” him. He was probably too scared to do anything about it. He knew what a butt-load of trouble he’d be in if Arthur ever found out that he’d been whimpering and whining to anyone. He had been around long enough to know what was and what was not acceptable to Arthur. Every now and then, he’s slip up and he’d need a reminder. Arthur thoroughly enjoyed dishing out these random lessons to Fagan, but they were few and far between and only when he did or said something to make Arthur angry. Other than those times, though, Fagan knew how to behave to get out of his “lesson”.

Arthur heard dished clink in the sink and water running as Fagan washed his dishes. Apparently, he wasn’t in the mood for a beating. Go figure. Arthur listened as the dishes were put away and Fagan scurried back to his room. He didn’t stop by the living room this time. Arthur was glad for it. He didn’t want to have to waste any more energy than he had to, tonight. He’d had an exhausting day of searching the internet for jobs in the area. Specifically easy jobs that paid a lot. They were rarer than you’d think. He thought he’d reward himself with complete relaxation tonight. This meant watching T.V. until he fell dead asleep on the couch and was awakened by Fagan leaving for school in the morning. He leaned back lazily and threw the remote to the other side of the couch.

Not surprisingly, he didn’t think about Fagan at all for the rest of the program. But Fagan thought about him. He sat in his pitch black room, looking at the secret box. Unbeknownst to his dad, he had snuck a few bills out of his wallet while he was having his evening meal. His dad probably wouldn't notice. It wasn't like he went out often. It wasn't like he got off the couch often, either. Fagan quickly counted the money again. He held his breath as the total grew and grew, bringing him closer and closer to his goal. His hands froze in midair after he had dropped another dollar in. He finally had enough. Enough to get away. And a little to spare. Fagan's heart stopped. He sat there, in the dark, his mind and body frozen. What to do, now. He slowly came back down to earth and dropped the rest of the money back into the box.

He would have to wait until the giant pig on the couch was asleep. If he was awake, he would surely hear the door, or a creaky board, and ask where Fagan was going. He had an uncanny sense to know whenever Fagan was lying. He would make sure he didn’t get outside and might even find the box. He’d really be in trouble, then. Fagan winced at the thought and quickly shut the lid to the box. He looked up at the window that was in his room. It faced the other house that was practically on top of his, keeping any light from the street or moon from shining in. Fagan always imagined being able to simply crawl out of the window, like he had been able to do in the abandoned house. However, his dad had given him the room with the highest window. It was a few feet over Fagan’s head. He had tried, but his dad hadn’t let him bring a chair into his room. His bed was just a mattress on the floor, so it didn’t help much. There was no way to reach the window. Not for Fagan. He had to go out the front door.

He took a deep breath to calm himself. He had done it before. He had been able to get out the front door without waking his dad up before. This time, though, was the most important. This time was all or nothing. He knew what he was doing. His life depended on this (and, sadly, that wasn’t too far from the truth). He had to get it right. Once he was outside, the brute couldn’t catch him. Once he was out the door, he was free. He laid down on his mattress and waited.

~*~

Arthur had fallen asleep to the lull of the T.V. a few hours ago. It was amazing how tired sitting on a computer all day could make you. Well, he had been forced to yell at Fagan. This must have been what had drained him. It was such a responsibility to take care of a bratling child. People should really pay more respect to him, it was such a hard job. Maybe he should put that on his resume.

He stirred slightly, briefly awakening when there was a soft creak from somewhere within the house. The house was old. He was used to creaks. However, this creak sounded less like the wind and more like a human footstep. He grunted sleepily and rubbed his nose noisily. The creak instantly stopped. Yup, that was definitely a human tred. Fagan was up. Was it morning already? Arthur rubbed his eyes and yawned. He heard hurried footsteps. He finally opened his eyes and stretched, then blinked in confusion. It was still dark outside. What was Fagan doing up? It wasn’t time for school yet. He heard the footsteps heading for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He called, getting off the couch with great effort. Instead of an answer, he heard Fagan break into a run. Arthur growled angrily and followed him. In the short corridors of the house, he could catch the kid. Outside, however, when he’d have to show a little endurance and run for an extended period of time, he simply couldn’t compete. He turned a corner and saw Fagan at the door, trying to unlock it.

“FAGAN!!” Arthur roared, then began to rush at him. Fagan frantically pushed and pulled the key until the lock unlatched. He threw open the door and flew outside, secret box in hand. Arthur stopped at the door, panting.

“GET BACK HERE, FAGAN!!” He yelled at the figure sprinting down the street “IF YOU DON’T TURN AROUND AND COME BACK RIGHT NOW, I’LL MAKE SURE YOU NEVER RUN AGAIN!!” Fagan, however, ignored him and kept running away, turning down an alleyway and disappearing from sight. To say the least, Arthur was seething.

~*~

Of course, Arthur hadn’t called the police about his kid running away. He had known what he was doing wasn’t exactly legal. Besides, he knew Fagan would come back. He had nowhere else to go. He didn’t know any of his relatives. His teacher despised him. He had no friends. He would have to come back if he wanted food or a place to sleep. Arthur sat in Fagan’s pitch black room, waiting for him. He wasn’t going to let him get away this time. He’d make sure Fagan knew exactly how he felt about the situation. The kid would definitely be having a hospital visit. When he finally came home.

Though it had been a few days, Arthur just knew that he’d be back sometime soon. He didn’t have a place to go. He’d have to come right back here and apologize. He’s have to make it up to Arthur. The teacher had been calling, but Arthur just ignored it. What was he supposed to say? “Oh, yeah. He decided to run away because he doesn’t like that I beat him regularly. But don’t worry, he’ll be coming back anytime, now.” Arthur just waited in the pitch black room.

Fagan was bound to come back. It was impossible for a kid to stay out in the streets for long. Besides, it was dangerous out there. He’s get hurt if he didn’t come home. Fagan didn’t know what Arthur knew about the world. About how it might look nice on the outside, but it’s terrible on the inside. Fagan would probably be kidnapped and brutally murdered. He’d get scared and come home. That’s what was bound to happen. Arthur waited for him. He waited for the sound of the front door opening.

He waited for a long time. In fact, he was about to give up, but he heard a soft sound outside the house. Arthur listened carefully. It was definitely a person outside. Climbing the side of the house. Fagan was home. Coming through the window. Arthur put on his disapproving look and crossed his arms. He’d make the kid wish he’s never even had the idea of running away. And thinking to sneak back into the house through the window! He saw a shadowy figure, black against the pitch black of the room. He heard gentle scraping as the window was opened. He watched the figure begin to enter the house.

“And just where have you been?” Arthur asked sharply, knowing he was completely invisible in the room. The figure suddenly stood straight. It was at least six feet tall. That was not Fagan. Arthur began to sweat.

“Who are you?” He asked, bewildered. He saw movement in front of him and turned to run. The last thing he heard was a gunshot.

~*~

Mrs. White was soon informed that Fagan would not be coming back to school. A robber had infiltrated the Tyler house. Unfortunately, Arthur Tyler’s body had been found in the pitch black room, also speculated to be the intruder’s entrance. The house had been ransacked and there was absolutely no sign of Fagan. It was unsure about whether he had been in the house at the time of the break-in, but no one had seen him in quite a while. It was possible he had been kidnapped by the same robber who had searched and failed to find valuables in the house. 

However, the police did have an eyewitness who claims to have seen the robber's face. She came outside when she heard the gunshot in her neighbors house and saw the man exiting the building. She says it was a man named Ralph Winterton. The owner of a nearby restaurant. Mrs. White was informed to keep an eye out for this criminal and to be extra careful when the children when outside for recess.

The hunt for Ralph Winterton began in the pitch black room, but didn’t end there. A day later and a block away trying to buy cigarettes, the killer was found. Fagan never was.