"A collection of my thoughts, feelings, and emotions, to the world around me"
I write because I have a voice. A voice deep inside that never stops. It never tires out or falls silent. Always, I’m processing. Processing my existence so far. When I write, I finally can give that voice a platform. Whatever’s inside my head, my heart, those thoughts, my feelings, and all that emotion get tapped into and allows that voice to escape. – Ash
My heart beats loudest
for someone no longer there
keeping me alive
Anxiety can sometimes trick me into thinking I can’t beat it. When I smile, I take back the lead. – Ash
Sometimes I forget how beautiful life truly is, I’m glad I have Spring to remind me. – Ash
When you make it to the top of that mountain, immediately start searching for a higher peak. Your best has no limits, so keep on reaching for it. – Ash
Honey, have you met our neighbour?
What?
Our neighbour. The guy across from us in the adjoining apartment. Have you met him?
Ah…no, I don’t think so. Why?
Oh, nothing. I was just thinking today about how strange it is that we’ve been in our new place for three months now, and the both of us have yet to lay a single eye on him. Don’t you think that’s a tad odd?
No, not really. Maybe this guy likes keeping to himself. He could work shitty hours opposite us or something.
Yeah, I guess. But you would think we would have seen him coming or going at some point. His front door closing here or there.
Baby, you are being weird and nosey. Who cares? Look, I am completely cool with not getting to know our neighbours. I hate those annoying stop-and-talks. Besides, shit’s tangly when people get too all up in your business. That’s the whole reason we moved. We hate people remember.
All I am saying is that I find it odd. I haven’t seen him in the laundry room, I’m there almost every other day. Both of us check the communal mailboxes coming in and going out, no sign of him there either and his mailbox is right next to ours.
Ah, there’s that weird and nosey again, babe.
Plus, it’s not only his door, I also have yet to hear anything coming from his apartment. Nothing. It’s always quiet over there.
And, there’s the nosey.
I am not weird, Bradley. Or nosey. Why are you being mean?
more time between us
more our hearts break us in two
when I think of you
I am surrounded
in a life so full of love
why am I alone?
Go ahead, tell me one more time that you don’t know where he is, and I am pulling this trigger. I’m tired of games. You know, it’s actually convenient you wearing that mask. Now I won’t risk getting too much of your ugly face all over my new black marble floor. My wife hates when I do stuff like that. She’ll be pissed if she finds out I brought my work home. Only, this time she won’t be too hard on me. Because you my friend, were stupid enough to come here on your own free will. This is sort of like delivery for me. What the hell were thinking coming to my house anyway? To my private masquerade party? Then, have the nerve to drink my expensive booze and hit on my ladies. They are all on my clock you know? You got some balls, kids. I will give you that. OK, cut the bullshit. Where is Danny Champagne?
Continue reading “Story Jots # 4 – Where is Danny Champagne?”
The body was easy to move from the place to the car to the boat. As it always is. Premeditation is kind of my thing. I have done this same routine maybe a hundred times. No, I believe it is a hundred and six times. Yeah, a hundred and six. You know, blondes are my favourite of all the women. Slightly more gullible. Usually more attractive. All of them walking by themselves late at night. Coming from their restaurant shifts, drunken bachelorette parties, or on their way to an ex-boyfriend. Then, I would present myself to these tired, these tipsy, and these texting specimens. Most nights, it is an unlit cigarette in poor lighting that works effortlessly. Cliché I know. Although, there were times I would fake a bleeding lip on this fragile face of mine. It was easy with these ladies the way I look. Always so helpful they are. But now I am bored. Unmotivated. No more of this killing racket. I am done. Finished. The girls just do not seem to fight back anymore anyway. Shall I leave a clue? Maybe allow one to getaway? Hmmm. Better yet! How about this one? Number 107. I mean, after all of that and you, my pretty blonde lady…are still breathing.
