Your Midweek Update for 07/27/22

I have smelled a lot of horrible things in my life. I laid with my parents have I murdered them and they were not found right away. I once hid in an open grave to evade the police. I helped my mom clean out her murder den after it hadn’t been aired out since my kidnapping.

It turns out that all of us forget she’d rented a storage unit in which to commit murders because James got a call from the manager saying her autopayment bounced and if we didn’t pay by the end of the month, they would be auctioning off the items inside.

I don’t think they would allow that episode of Storage Wars to air.

So he renewed the rental agreement and changed it over to his name, and the two of us grabbed every disinfectant known to man (and trust me, we know them all) to go and clean out the murder den that’s been unoccupied for about six months.

The smell brought me to tears. I haven’t puked since Sarah M. shit her pants when I stabbed her in 8^th grade and it landed on my bare foot.

It’s been three days and I can still taste it. It’s like it’s burrowed into my skin. Everywhere I go, it just lingers.

But we were successful in disposing of all the materials and disinfecting the entire unit so it only smelled like month-old compost. And we did dispose of everything. James asked if I wanted to keep the place for hunts but it wouldn’t feel right. That was mom’s sanctuary so I’ll find my own. But we are putting her things in there – maybe in the spring after winter has frozen and killed all the bacteria – so it can remain her sanctuary.

It just smelled so bad.

It was one of those things that fell away when she and James split. She was so heartbroken she forgot about everything else. I was angry at him for hurting her – I still am – but he’s angry at himself, too. That doesn’t make it better but at least he knows that he fucked up. I know some of you think I should kill him and for a while I wanted to but now I don’t. He’s all I have left.

I did ask him why he did it. Why he blew up our family out of the blue.

He told me that he was a weak man. That he loved my mom beyond reason. But temptations from others were unending.

I’ve been reading through Mom’s blog a lot, trying to get to know her. I see how she saw all of us. She loved James. She thought of him as so loyal but the truth is: he was just waiting for the next best thing and it finally came. I always thought they were meant to be. I’ve heard their love story so many times and I thought it was fate that led them together. But maybe I was wrong.

The small comfort I have is that James always realized (too late) that he was also wrong: nothing would be better than her.

It does make me wonder. She saw the world in such a specific way. What other people in her life were not who she thought they were?

I feel like I need to find a new sign off. Any suggestions?

In the meantime, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Author Nathan C. Gooden Reveals The Comics That Shaped His Childhood

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The Night Queen Author Denise Daye Talks Favourite Movies

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the THE NIGHT QUEEN by Denise Daye Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!

Your Midweek Update for 07/20/22

My mom is dead.

There’s no sense in beating around the bush.

On June 24^th, she was in a car accident and died of a brain hemorrhage on the way to the hospital. The other driver was killed on impact. I think she would have liked that.

It was such an ordinary death, though – that’s the part she would have really hated.

I always thought my mom was immortal. All the stories she and James told, all the things I’ve seen her do.

You know, I once watched her approach this insanely tall man at a hotel conference centre. She used a chair to jump onto his back and then stabbed him in the eye with one of those fancy two-pronged forks. The man screamed and flailed but she held on and at one point, he ran into a wall and she used the momentum to throw his head against it. I could hear the crack of his skull from across the room. And as his lifeless body crumpled to the ground, she hopped off and landed on both feet like it was nothing.

She was the coolest person I’ve ever met.

I knew that she would die one day (hopefully in a senior’s centre where she smothers the patients and cuts their IVs and no one really notices because they’re so old). But for a woman like her, it should have been an extraordinary death. Chasing a victim who fights back and manages to stab her in the leg and as she’s bleeding out from her femoral artery, she throws the knife previously imbedded in her thigh and it hits them in the back of the neck, severing their spinal cord. And as she collapses to the ground, she uses her body weight to smother her victim because she may be dying, but she will never let them live.

That’s the kind of death that my mother deserved. Instead, it was just some random accident. I asked the investigator and he showed me all the evidence they have that it was faulty wiring in the traffic light that made the intersection show two green lights. There’s no one to blame, no revenge to get. I don’t know what to do with myself.

The police called James to inform him that his wife had died and now I’m living with him back at our old place. It’s so weird to call him James but I know she used fake names for everyone so I’m going to stick with it. My name’s not really Casey. I wonder why she chose it.

I thought James might be living with someone else but the house is exactly as we left it. All of her stuff was in the drawers and on the walls and no trace of anyone else. There was even a carton of her favourite creamer in the fridge – the kind I know only she drank – like he was always waiting for her to come back.

Like he thought they would get a second chance.

I told Ben before I left. He came by the motel looking for her and when I told him, he looked so sad. I think he really liked her. Don’t tell him, but I was going to kill him if they lasted longer than six months. She couldn’t see it, but Mom and James were supposed to be together forever and that couldn’t happen with somebody like Ben around. He was nice and he gave me a book on ancient weapons that he stole from the library but he wasn’t what this family needed.

Now it’s just me and James and we’ll never know if our family could get back together.

We’ll never know.

Never.

She’s really gone.

That woman walked through fire for me. She was the best mother I ever had. The only one I never wanted to kill.

I loved her. So much.  

I was cleaning out her laptop in case the feds ever raided and I found this hidden program and this blog. I asked James and he said that this place was her constant companion. He never read it but she told this little corner of the world all her secrets. I’ve only looked through a few years’ worth but there’s already so much that I didn’t know.

I never knew Jason killed Andrew – that was a shocker – or how much she cared for Charlotte before it all went to hell. And the thing with the motorcycle gang? Oh my god. It’s like my mom had a whole other life before me.

I mean, I knew that logically but to actually see it? I thought I knew everything about her but I only knew a slice of the amazing person she was. Honestly, I think you all knew her better than anyone.

It might be dangerous to keep you around now that she’s gone but I don’t want to let you go. If I have any technical trouble, I can always call Aunt Meg – if I can find her emergency number.

I don’t think she knows yet. Someone has to tell her.

In the meantime, I’m going to keep updating this blog. I don’t know if it’ll be as good as hers but I feel like I need a project and a way to feel close to her so why not kill two birds with one stone: my specialty.

I think she would have liked that joke.

My condolences, dear readers.

And, please,

Stay Safe

Your Midweek Update for 06/22/22

Things with Ben are definitely what I’d called “honeymoon”. When we’re not fucking, we’re killing – and I’d definitely call it a rampage. Every night these past few weeks, we’ve been going out dancing, or hunting, or scoping out a potential victim. Most nights, I’m not walking in the door until after midnight. I’m exhausted in the best way. His stamina is incredible. Even in my 30s, I couldn’t butcher two men in one night. The strength it takes. Especially since he says he’s not prone to violent murders. He prefers poisons and strangulation – and when I tell I’ve been fantasizing about those forearms ever since… - things that are cleaner and not automatically attributed to large men like him. But for me, he wrapped those short, meaty, fingers around a cleaver and disposed to two business men right in front of me. There is little I haven’t done already when it comes to murder but it felt so good to have an arm wrapped around my waist while I pierced a woman’s eyeball with her own stiletto heel. I can’t even say I’ve missed it because I’ve never had it in the first place. It’s been just over a week since I found out about Ben and already, I know I’m becoming addicted to his touch. How could I not? All any of us have ever wanted is a partner; someone who understands and supports every aspect of our lives. And to meet someone so intimately familiar with my desires and needs (and are able to meet them) is so rare. And I’ve been lonely. I’m not sure if you noticed that from my weeks of pining and wailing but this year has sucked. I’ve had to relearn so many things. I’ve had to start over but this time, I’ve had to do it alone. It’s nice to talk to someone who understands. Casey is still learning. And she’s my daughter, we will never be equals. But Ben? He is a whole god damn person who makes me feel seen. I am so glad I didn’t kill him. I know this is the honeymoon phase and something will inevitably throw a wrench in my plans for a happy life, but can I just enjoy it while it lasts? For however long it lasts? Don’t I deserve to be happy?

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Your Midweek Update for 15/06/22

I’ve been looking for a partner in all things for so long that I don’t think I ever wondered what would happen if I found someone who fit the bill.

You all remember Ben. The boy toy who gives good head? Well the funniest thing happened last Friday. I was on my way home from work and feeling horny so I decided to stop by Benny Boy’s work at the library – because yes, I am fucking a sexy librarian – but his coworkers said he had just started his break. I went around to the staff parking lot, hoping to catch a quicky before he was back on the clock and I saw him walking around the corner so, naturally, I followed him.

And I kept following him and I kept following him. Suddenly we were on the other side of the train tracks in a poorly monitored area of the city – something I clocked very early on in my stay here. My first thought is that he had some sort of drug problem which is technically none of my business but it might cause some tension.

But I was proven wrong when he walked up to a man on his smoke break, spoke to him for about 30 seconds, shook his hand, and then walked away. The man suddenly began to have trouble breathing, he then collapsed to the ground as though he had no control of his limbs and shortly after, he died. I’m amazed I didn’t clock it sooner because it’s a method I used to use all the time – although it’s definitely become less popular in the post-pandemic world.

There’s a vein in your left palm that people used to say connects your ring finger to your heart. Science says that’s not true but there are some lovely veins that do travel through your wrist and make their way back to your heart with few detours (Casey says it’s the cephalic vein which made me laugh for 20 minutes). With a little prick, you can send poison almost directly to their heart.

I had to keep following him after that. I just had to know. But obviously I wasn’t as sneaky as I thought because I suddenly found myself dragged into a mall entrance and shoved against a wall.

I have never seen Ben looking so feral. So dangerous. So. Fucking. Hot.

I asked him where he got his hands on botulism and that seemed to stun him to his senses. We went for coffee, sat in the park, and we talked. For hours. He told me about how he started poisoning residents in his grandmother’s nursing him when he was a teenager. To him, what he was doing was a mercy and the more he looked at the world, the more he realized more than just the elderly were in need of “mercy”. He’s been killing people ever since. Not as many and not as often but he enjoys it. I could see it in his eyes as he talked about the woman last year who bled from her eyes. He was so passionate as he talked about his victims. I told him about my own career, or at least the highlights. Something to let him know that he can trust me because we’re the same. After a while we walked back to the library – and yes, he just skipped the last half of his shift but he hasn’t been reprimanded yet so I think his coworkers think he was just getting laid for 4 hours.

He did but much later (and not for 4 hours, jesus christ).

On the way to our vehicles, I demonstrated my own passion for the craft by stabbing a barista in the femoral artery. The way he looked at me… only James has ever looked at me with such desire. And admiration. I have never felt so seen.

We have a date tonight. We’re going down to the river to find a late-night jogger and kill them. Together. I haven’t had that before. A partner. Someone who understands how it feels and why I love it so much.

I know how incredible it is that we’ve found each other. There are about 4000 active serial killers in the world and of the 7 billion people walking around, the odds of two killers finding each other is… astronomically low.

Feels a little bit like fate.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Your Midweek Update for 06/08/22

 Tell me why there is a Karen in every town who thinks of herself as an amateur detective but really they're just a nosy little bitch who doesn't understand the concept of boundaries. 

I caught a neighbour at the motel digging through the trash which in and of itself isn't suspicious but then she looked at me and her eyes lit up. Over the next few days, I kept seeing her everywhere - even away from the motel, The woman was the worst stalker ever. And I've encountered a lot of stalkers in my time. 

Why am I bragging about the amount of people that have caught on to my lifestyle? 

This latest woman clearly has too much time on her hands and not enough brain cells to realize that she's in danger. I turned and caught her eye across the street and she fucking waved. She doesn't realize - or maybe she doesn't care - how easy it would be to turn the tables. To lose her in a back alley and corner her like the prey she is. Gut her from her belly button to her goose neck. 

I'm not even particularly worried about her finding anything in my trash - honestly, does she think I'm that new? She just pisses me off. The audacity of this woman is just staggering. She has to die. 

And it's the same everywhere I go. Every town has someone who's watched too many crime dramas and thinks they can solve a crime all on their own. 

Fucking Nancy Drew building false expectations.

No one is that lucky and no one's care stays in that nice condition. And what the hell is strawberry blonde? Those are two different colours! 

Anyways, if Karen bothers me one more time, I will be fileting her alive. I have no more patience for people who consider my life entertaining. Aside from you, dear readers, because I'm offering this information to you willingly. You're not peering through my window at 7am trying to catch me in the act. Or if you are, you should know better. Fans don't live long. I sincerely hope it's not one of you. My Reader Views are low enough as it is since Jason left. Literally murdering my own fan base seems like overkill - and I would know. 

Too on the nose? I claim to be a prolific serial killer, not an epic writer. In any case, Karen will likely die later this week so if she is a reader... sorry?

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Your Midweek Update for 06/01/22

When you love so deeply and you can't imagine doing anything else for the rest of your life. The great love affair. The thing I am most passionate about. I want to share it with everyone. Talk about it constantly. Think about it even more. Live and breathe it, embody it because even at its worst it is still better than being without it. I can't even imagine being without it. I couldn't breathe. It's impossible to do anything else because all roads lead back home. And it is home. Comforting, familiar, safe and yet exciting because being with the thing I love the most is the most exciting thing in the world. I never wondered if another could take its place. The prospect of leaving completely brings me to my knees but stepping back isn't so terrifying. Allowing room in my heart for something else - not replacing just sharing - is something I could absolutely explore. With less absolutism than my wording implies. But I would be willing to change, I suppose, for the right thing. Nothing has ever come close to comparing so it's never been an issue. But I have this fear in my heart that one day I will have to decide if I can make room in my fearful heart for something else. And will it be by choice or by force? Will I be allowed to walk away, or take a step back at my own pace? Will that be easier or harder than being forced apart by fate? At least then I can look back and have someone to blame. It might ease the burden of regret to have someone to blame. Besides, a great love like this could not fathomably end by anything other than farce. Even if it causes me pain and sorrow, I would choose it every time. Love outweighs all others. So I suppose, for all my concessions, I couldn't give up even a fraction of heart to another. It is all or nothing. Until the day I die.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Your Midweek Update for 05/25/22

When I cut off all ties with my husband and left in the middle of the night, I did not expect to miss him so much. I’m typing this while another man sleeps in my bed – Ben, I know, but he gives good orgasms – and yet, all I can think about his James.

That’s not even what I was going to talk to you about this week. I was going to talk about the cashier who was found absolutely butchered in the back alley of a local convenience store. I mean someone had hacked away at his stomach until his ribcage was bare and his floating ribs were missing because someone accidentally nicked them with the knife and had to put them through the incinerator.

Next time, give me correct change and don’t argue with me when I politely ask you to double check your work.

But I’m not even in the mood to tell you about that because after I murdered the cashier, I called Ben, we had slightly exhausted sex, and as I lay awake after begrudgingly letting him sleep over, all I could think about was the dumpster in the alley.

I had initially wanted to throw the cashier’s body in the dumpster. Even if his body was discovered before trash collection took him away, he wouldn’t have been discovered the next day and identification wouldn’t have been so simple. I tried to drag him in by myself but his organs were splashing all over the place and I was just making a mess so I left him sitting against the dumpster. I am a strong woman but dead bodies are heavy – especially when they’ve been opened in the middle. It’s like trying to carry a full casserole dish with wax paper.

A kill like that would have been a lot easier with a partner. Sure, I could have called Casey but I realize that she’s only got a few more months of school before she’s potentially off on her own. It would only been one more month of school but between the kidnapping and the separation, she has a few grades to make up before she can graduate.

I’m very cognizant of the fact that this is around the age where I lose my children. And if, for whatever reason, she does leave, I will be well and truly alone. My parents are gone, my sister is in the wind, my husband has broken my heart and I will be alone.

I don’t know specifically what it was about this particular kill – beyond having to admit that I can’t deadlift a bowl of unset Jell-O over my shoulder – but it the loneliness struck me in a way it hasn’t for a while.

I miss my partner. I miss having a partner. Someone who has my back when I’m out doing the one thing that brings me joy. James was my partner in everything and I don’t know when or if I’ll ever find that with someone else.

Maybe I’ll ask Ben how he feels about carrying overcooked spaghetti and meatballs in a dollar store paper plate.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Author Roma Cordon Reveals Her Top 5 Books

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