Part of chapter 2 from Life Once Was

I’ve had to slow down the work on the short stories so I could get to work on the novel. I’m still writing the short stories only I won’t be able to post them as much as I normally do. I have so many ideas and can only type so fast (which is actually very slow). I’m doing my best and I’m sure that you writers out there know that writing a story worth reading takes time. This is only about 1/3 of the chapter but it starts to point you where the story is going…. Kind of.

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James stared for just a moment peering out of the sliding glass door and as soon as he saw movement he looked at Mr. Brown and nodded, then ran into his bed room. Mr. Brown and David stood up instructing the girls to go into James’ room and hide while they find out what was going on. As they were going into the room, James was running back out with his shotgun. When they crossed paths, he handed Michelle her own pistol and told her to call the police. Then all of a sudden, they began to hear shots going off around the neighborhood. An uneasy empty feeling entered the pit of their stomachs. The kind of feeling that everyone gets when they think they are ready for something but deep down they know they’re not. Scared and panicked, Michelle’s bottom lip quivered as she mewled out, “What the fuck is going on out there?” To which James gave her a quick kiss and replied, “I don’t know but I’m going to find out. Now you two stay in here and call the cops. Anyone else tries to come in here, shoot. Don’t bother asking questions, just fucking shoot.” Shots still continued to randomly ring out, along with screams and cries for help as the three cautiously moved towards the sliding glass door. They expected to just scare someone off but, after hearing the gunshots, they really didn’t know what to expect anymore.

My Veterans Day Story

Today is Veterans Day.  Some of you may or may not know that I am a U.S. Veteran. And for this day set aside to honor Vet’s, I will tell the story of why I write now. I’m not going to candy-coat it like some stories I’ve heard because soldiers can steal valor too and I won’t be a part of that. I’m in the U.S. Army Reserves, I have been since 2008. I stayed reserve side for personal reasons, mainly my daughter. I am not OEF OIF, I don’t wear a patch on my right shoulder (for those of you who know what that means). When people would see me trying to walk in uniform with my cane, walker or when I was in a wheelchair, they would come up to me with these huge smiles then express their concern for me. Then they would all ask the same thing, “Did you get shot/blown up in Iraq/Afghanistan?” Their awe and concern would instantly disappear when I said, “No, I broke my spine at Ft. McCoy, WI.” Then they would just tell me good luck and walk away. I was born with depression but the doctors I had when I was younger taught me ways to deal with it but, they had no way of preparing me for the existence and hell I was going through after I got injured. It still spins around in my head and will never become a scar because what I felt will never heal. Imagine you are surrounded by family and friends, then you fall while carrying 10 gallons of water and try to catch yourself only you hear a loud crack instead. Then you loose your balance because you are still falling and land with your spine on a large piece of granite and hear another loud crack as the filled water cans hammer your spine into the rock.  Then all that they do while you’re in shock and try to move is say, “Man, you look like you gotta take a shit.” And that’s all, no doctor, no hospital, no concern. That happened 31May2012. A few months ago, I was finally able to see a physical therapist, before they actually found out what was wrong with me, and I told her how my body went completely numb. She said that it was my brain turning off my pain receptors so my body doesn’t go into shock. Do any of you have any idea of what it’s like to not feel anything, not even the wind, it’s the most haunting thing imaginable because when that happened, I thought i was a ghost. I had to be, I couldn’t feel anything and most of the other soldiers paid no attention to me as if I wasn’t there. That shit still creeps me out thinking about it. Our commander cared a whole lot about us taking a survey but didn’t care about the soldier that had to crawl to reach water. No one cared. The storm of being disabled without any kind of help destroyed my life. When I was able to think through the pain, I would try to kill myself but was too weak to accomplish the task. I begged every hospital, every clinic and even my own unit for help but they ALL said no. I was even tossed out of the local emergency room back in Texas. Civilian side said they can’t help because it’s the military’s problem and the military said, “Damn! That looks painful. You need to see a doctor. Why don’t you go to the E.R.” Every one passed the buck and their collective laziness and disregard destroyed my family. I spent almost a year and a half wanting death, then my son was born and finding help just became a dream. I had to fight my way though hell and some how pull myself up, alone, without any help. There is more to it but that is just too personal. My fight was now to clean up the mess that was my life. When I changed focus from trying to find help to “FUCK YOU ALL, I’LL HELP MYSELF” then help started to arrive, in small doses of course. I researched different things I could do to help me walk again and it help for a while my emotional state was still ruined. That’s why I started writing my stories and working on my books, It gave me some kind of self worth and I will write til I die. I incorporate some of what I went through in my stories in such a way that the readers won’t be able to tell but it’s there. When I finally got to see a REAL doctor (who didn’t give a shit at first, just like the rest) he found out exactly what was wrong with me.  I had SIJ, where my hip was not connected to my sacral joints ( not connected to my spine), as far off as it was, my doctor said there was no way I should have been able to stand, but I did. Then he found that one of my sacral joints had a disk instead of being fused together like a normal person, and it was crushed. On top of that, I have a nerve wrapped around it so surgery was not an option. For now I get 2 injections at a time but I can do that forever, you can only have so many a year. As for my role in my unit, I’m in medical limbo. I can’t leave the Army and the Army can’t leave me until they find that I’m stable which might actually happen next year. I have been put through hell but you know what, I would sign those papers again willingly because I know what it means to be a United States Veteran. People can say what they want about our military but in the end, we are willing to give our lives in the name of freedom and that’s what this day is about, honoring those that accept that challenge and responsibility. Happy Veterans Day

side note: This really happened and that’s not even close to all I went through. I am able to stand and walk now. I’m not writing for sympathy because with it’s absence, I grew to despise it. I don’t really care what people think about it, as a human being I deserve the right to tell my story and be heard for once.

Horror in My World

I write horror, though today people seem to have a different opinion of just what horror is. It creating a character that the reader or viewer can relate to then putting them through some kind of horrific event, that’s where the name horror comes from, at least that’s how I see it. It’s not dumping buckets of blood on some naked girls, yes that gets viewers and readers but, that doesn’t make it horror. You don’t need death or blood or some kind of supernatural event for example: A girl stands up to accept an award for school and goes up on stage. When she takes a bow , she farts and the microphone picks it up. Then the sound echoes throughout the hall. What she feels and what readers and viewers pick up on is the terror coursing throughout her. That is horror. Today most people try to make the bloodiest, goriest thing they can, throw in some nudity and slap a horror label on it. Then they wonder why, if they have so many viewers they have a crappy rating. That’s because after the viewer gets their cheap thrills, they don’t care about the story and can’t relate the the characters. To me that’s not horror. Don’t get me wrong, I know some great erotic horror writers out there and a lot of them are right here on WordPress but I’m not talking about them. They create great characters that are the main focus of the story and they are put through some hell. You can’t help but to follow their torment, that’s Horror! I do use supernatural events and blood and some gore in my stories but the main focus is on the characters and what happens to them. I try getting the reader to feel the terror that the characters are experiencing, I want them to follow the story line and not get caught up with, “Are there boobs and blood?” I going to put an end to this rant because I need to get back to my books. I just hope this give some insight to the true nature of Horror that we all love.

The entire first chapter of Life Once Was

Here it is, the entire first chapter of my novel.

Dreams can be quite strange , they can be good, bad or both. They can be your most amazing fantasy or be your worst nightmare, reflect what happened during your day or bring out your worst fears from the past. The strangest things about dreams is that they can be deceptive by giving you a truthful glimpse of what is to come. Dreams are strange indeed.
As David walked down the street with his thick leather boots and olive drab jacket, he had no emotion of any kind on his face. He just moved with a purpose. All was dark and quiet except for the little bit of liquid sloshing around in the gas can he had with him. The moon was dim but gave off just enough light for him to see his surroundings. There were no people around that he could see, the streets were empty, lifeless and silence was cold. He wasn’t sure where he was or how he got there though the neighborhood felt eerily familiar. Still, he didn’t let it bother him, he just kept on walking with the wind seemingly following him. The houses around him were abandoned and falling apart but not enough to conceal their former charm and composition. He could still tell that this was once a beautiful neighborhood that was full of life. The once white picket fences were now in disrepair, charred and broken, plants that had been vibrant were shriveled and dried up and dead, lawns once neatly manicured were spotted with overgrown weeds with trash and debris blowing around them.
When he came to the middle of the block he stopped and thew the near empty gas can at a house. Reaching into his pockets he pulled out a lighter and some crudely fashioned sticks wrapped in and oil soaked rags. David spoke under his breath, “It’s time to start anew.” Then without thought and still emotionless, he lit the rags on fire then threw them at the nearest house. Almost instantly the house took to the flame and spread up and down the street jumping from house to house following the trail of gasoline he had laid out.
David kept walking down the empty street, houses now ablaze, like nothing was wrong. Just watching the houses burn as if the neighborhood was still in it’s prime and covered in Christmas lights. This brought David comfort and somehow made him feel safer. He gave himself false memories of children that once played there, laughing and chasing each other up and down the street. Of people pulling into their driveway and waving at their neighbors. He thought of an old woman that took pride and loved working in her flower garden. He just wanted to picture that neighborhood they way it might have been. Continuing on, the fire from the burning houses lit up the sky with it’s orange glow, lighting his way through the night. Then something in one of the houses caught his attention, pulling him out of his daydream. He noticed some kind of movement coming from behind the flames. When he got a better look, his eyes widened as he saw the burning silhouettes running around erratically inside the inferno. David began to panic. He started waving his arms and running toward the burning figures trying to get their attention. He began shouting, screaming, calling for anyone who could hear him but something was different, something wasn’t right. As he shouted his voice was not there, instead only silence was emitted. His mouth was open but the only sounds were that of wood crackling in the fires.