Am I Write? # 25 – All the Write Places

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I went to a coffee shop tonight and wrote. I do that from time to time. It was very productive, always is because of the atmosphere. Sometimes writer’s block is not about where you are in your head. It could very well be about where you are physically. Change your space, I bet you’ll change your pace. – Ash

Story Jots # 5 – Serial Number

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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.

The Black Journal – (Take-Away)

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Friday, 9:45 P.M.

Ethan’s driver-side door crunched and creaked as it slammed shut. He was home. Another long day of chasing a killer without so much as a single clue of who it might be. Zero answers, just more questions. Questions, that for now had to wait. The only thing on his mind was finally getting to see his beautiful wife, Susan. Take one look at her and no matter how bad of a day he was having, she’d quickly make all go away. A hot shower and some food wouldn’t go astray either.

Continue reading “The Black Journal – (Take-Away)”

From Dark

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I walked in the shadows
before I knew any light
ashamed, guilty, and full of regret
my only out was running toward the dark
where I belonged
there, to slither between mistake after mistake
and masquerade with a beating heart
the scene, was set in rhythm and sweat
people would stare, stare straight through me
I wanted it…I deserved it
nobody allowed to peek beyond that curtain
to see who was in control, what was in control
all they did was help bury it deeper
beneath guise of a lie
then came the day where a key unlocked a clue
a tiny sparkling light
which found me, in await, to be let free
…from dark