Wednesday, 31 December 2014

Your Mid-Week Update for 12/31/14

I survived Christmas with my parents.

That is something I have not been able to say since I was fourteen. I don’t know what it was about age fifteen but it all went downhill. Anyways, Christmas wasn’t horrible but I was also high on endorphins most of the time. Just remembering the kill and going to my mental happy place let me tune out my mother’s incessant criticism and my father’s four hour inspection of my house – from the pipes to the drapes.

After I ditched the kids on the 23rd, they were a bit upset with me. Apparently “grandma” had some choice words for the family she feels has abandoned her. They weren’t pretty. As revenge, they left me alone with my mother for hours while I “helped” her make dinner on Christmas day. Back when we actually made Christmas dinner as a “family”, the honour of assistant always went to my sister but seeing as she had her Home Leave deferred for another 6 months, and the fact that she’d kill my mother on sight: I don’t think she’d mind.

But I purposefully ignored my mother, drank a whole bottle of vodka, and let the kids each have a glass of some very strong liqueur that my husband smuggled from the evidence locker, and we survived.

You know, I’d say that I was overdramatizing or being too harsh on my mother but at this point, I think I’m just programmed to react like this. That woman has never said a kind word to me as far as I can remember.

She turned my baby sister over to the police and at the drop of a hat she would do the same to me. She would break my children’s hearts again. I can’t understand that woman nor do I want to. I’m just happy that she’s gone and that I don’t have to hear from her again until the next Christmas invasion.
The rest of the week has really just flown by. James is working overtime – no rest for the wicked – Sandra is at work, and Jason is out looking for work; or pretending to look while he makes out with his girlfriend in the back of various movie theatres.

I have spent most of my free time with Daniel. Right after my mother left on the 27th, he confronted me about Barry – whose name was not actually Barry and I’ve since updated his entry in my notebook – telling me that he will prove my guilt one way or another blah blah blah. He was quite upset until I offered him a cup of coffee and he drove off in a huff. I, of course, followed him and discovered the most terrifying secret of all:

Daniel Westburn is married.

I met her. She’s nice. Clearly overworked, and incredibly upset with “Danny” but she had a Northern European beauty to her. Quite, polite.

I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re wondering. Actually we’re going out for drinks later this week. Her name is Charlotte, she’s a small claims lawyer. I told her that I was a client who was just coming in to sign some paperwork (Daniel brings his work home with him, who knew). We actually have a lot in common, I think we’re going to be good friends.

Which of course pissed off Daniel like nothing else. The look on his face when I hugged his wife made all that fury from a few weeks ago just melt away.

You casually talk to my husband? I become besties with your wife.

The rest of my time has just been spent bringing up the boxes so we can put Christmas decorations away in the new year, following Daniel around, and watching classic action movies while I do paperwork that I brought home with me from the office.

Overall, I really can’t complain about the holidays. I thought I was going to have to but it wasn’t horrible.

I survived. And I hope you all did, too.

Let me know in the comments: how were your holidays?

Now, it’s New Year’s Eve. I can’t believe the year is over. The last half definitely went by faster than the first. I also don’t remember a chunk of the last half so that might factor into it.

In terms of reflecting on the year, I have a lot to be proud of and a lot of mistakes I don’t want to repeat. That’s part of why I have this blog – so I can look back and see how far I’ve come. Both as a woman and as a serial killer.

You know, I don’t think of this blog as a “diary or murder” parse; it’s more of a recounting of my life and my passions. And my life and passions happen to involve decapitation with a tire iron on occasion.

I do want to thank all my new readers who’ve joined us this year. Your support means so much to me.

I’m not one to make New Year’s resolutions so I won’t bore you with some fake ones but I do hope to keep moving forward in the coming year and spend some more time with my family, returning to the way things used to be before the summer.

Before Daniel.

The only way I’m going to do that is if I take him out of the equation which is exactly what I’m going to do.

Watch out, world, here I come.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Wednesday, 24 December 2014

Your Mid-Week Update for 12/24/14

I have an early Christmas present for everyone.

Are you ready? I’m so excited.

But first: a short story.

Every Fool down in Fooville loved Christmas, it’s true

But there was one grumpy fool who couldn’t make do

The witch who lived in a cave on Sneed Mountain

Couldn’t stand to see happiness, she’d rather drown in a fountain (I know, shut up)

Her heart was so cold, it was blacker than soot

Abandoning her daughters, she was never hard put

But alas, every Christmas, she’d try to engage

With the children she’d left off to simmer and rage

On this joyous year she had one mild success

Inviting herself to spend time with excess

“Oh, how I miss them.” The old hag would cry it

“My poor absent grandchildren, I just may riot.”

So the old bat came down from her cave for one day

Then two days, then three. She might visit till May

On the eve of eve’s Christmas the old bag arrived

Knocking on the door like some poor child deprived

Behind her, an army of one man approached

The father, so silent, judgmental, and poached

“Oh darling the house is in such disrepair

And however’d you manage to muck up your hair?”

The girl kissed her dad’s cheek both once and then twice

Ignoring her mother’s unwelcome advice

Mom questioned the tree and the stockings and all

The poor daughter wished she would just take a fall

Down the stairs or a well or perhaps off a cliff

But would mother fulfil her Christmas wish? As if

So the family suffered an onslaught of advice

Trying to stay silent for their words were not nice

She invaded the home like an army of rats

Picking apart all the thises and thats

Mom just wouldn’t stop all her squeaking and squawking

Finally the daughter had had enough of her talking

She slammed the door shut in the face of her family

And went out in search of some old fashioned therapy

She scoured the streets looking this way and left

For one measly morsel that won't leave her bereft

She walked and she walked down two roads and a street

Till she found some salvation with the caffeine elite

She ordered a drink and smiled at the clerk

And seductively asked what time he was off work

He smirked and he sneered and he said “pretty soon

Then I’ll be all yours.” I pretended to swoon

At the end of his shift, I waited out back

And I showed him a trick that made him go slack

I took a lead pipe from the end of a brick

And I hit him so hard, so fast, and so quick

He fell to the ground with a splatter of noise

And I wished him good will filled with peace and with joys

Then I walked away, with my coat tucked in tight

So no one could see the remains of our fight

The street was still filled with a person or two

None who took notice of the boy turning blue

A bum, and a strum, and a vague fashionista

But that is how Barry was no longer Barista


That was my surprise.

I killed Barry the Barista yesterday.

I’m so excited.

Can you tell?

Mom was just pissing me off so much that I walked out and ended up at the coffee shop and the next thing I knew, I was bashing his face in with a pipe. It was incredible. I have missed the sensation of blood on my hands. Scrubbing my nails raw. I finally feel like – despite my mother – I’m more in control.

And the best news is, this still doesn’t waver from my original plan of letting Daniel know that the tables have turned.

I took away his coffee boy.

It’s a definite start.

But after all that rhyming I’m exhausted so I’m going to go open the liquor cabinet and begin the Christmas Eve festivities with my family.

Have a happy holidays!

And, as always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Wednesday, 17 December 2014

Your Mid-Week Update for 12/17/14

There’s a lot going on in this week’s update. Try to keep up.

Point form notes so I don’t forget what I’m talking about:
  • Homicidal Triad
  • Barry White
  • The Phone Call

Let’s begin. The holidays are a rather crazy time of year and I feel my last few updates haven’t been covering nearly enough information to truly keep my dear readers up to speed. I shall do my best to remedy the situation now. Early on a Wednesday Morning. Very early. I can’t seem to be able to sleep.

When I was fourteen, I looked up the characteristics of a psychopath. It was a time in my life when I still wasn’t confident or sure of myself and it led to a lot of confusing trips to the library – and later, hours spent combing through the rubble left by internet users. Amongst my investigations I found the “Homicidal Triad”: a list of three traits that, when presented, are believed to predict or indicate a serial killer.

For your reference they are: Bed Wetting, Arson, and Cruelty to Animals.

I admit I may have indulged in a bit of harmless torture of our family cat, Frank, in my youth but once I get the taste for human flesh (figuratively speaking, of course), I was hooked for life.

Or so I thought.

I knew getting back into murder wouldn’t be easy. It’s not like riding a bike or setting fires. It takes practice. You have to relearn old habits which were hard to break in the first place. So, alas, I felt I should start back at the beginning. Back to the triad.

Now, I didn’t go back to my early childhood and wet the bed or set fire to the babysitter’s VHS tapes, but I did do away with the neighbour’s cat. She was mewling all night, and I was getting so agitated that I nabbed the cat and brought it inside where I proceeded to slice it open with a kitchen knife. Unfortunately it got a few good scratches in before I could kill the wretched beast but I did kill it.

I killed it.

Fuck yes!

It’s a little thing, a simple kill, but I did it all the same. So yes, I’m proud of myself. I loved hearing its little cries of despair as it waved its little paws around. Thankfully the scratches it left are only noticeable on my upper arms and it’s too damn cold to be so scandalous as to show my upper arms.

You know who else was proud? James. He came into the kitchen, found me covered in blood, then he picked me up and twirled me around. Then he went for a mop. He’s so loving that way.

I am so grateful to have him through this difficult time. Whenever I worry about the kids, he keeps me centered (and reminds me what their names are – it was one time). There has been more than one occasion which called for him to keep me from killing someone I oughtn’t. And just as many where he encouraged me forward.

I sometimes forget how difficult things must have been for him when I was going through that rough patch. That man is my rock.

It was his idea to stalk the stalker and now I think I’m ready.

I think I’m ready to begin killing again.

I’ve been following Daniel around for several weeks now and while I don’t know his entire routine, I’ve definitely got a place to start: Barry White.

Not the man himself but a barista who looks eerily like him in his youth. Every morning, Barry works the morning shift at the local café where Daniel gets his coffee and every morning, the stalker leaves with a smile because he’s a caffeine junkie and Barry is his supplier.

I wonder what would happen if I cut his supply off?

I wonder what he would do if he knew that the balance was shifting in my favor?

Anyways, where was I?

Oh right…

The Phone Call.

My parents didn’t know about my psychotic break, and I liked it that way. My children were told that I succumbed to pressure at work and just needed some time away (“locked in the looney bin” according to my lovely daughter) and I liked it that way. The family that I’ve created is the one I cherish most.

Unfortunately there can be some crossover.

Mother called while I was out one night and Jason answered the phone. He “somehow let it slip” that the reason they hadn’t heard from me since July was because I had spent some time locked up for my own protection but was now permitted to use my holiday time to relax over the holiday break.

So my usual excuse that I can’t see my parents because I had to go into the office just went up in smoke.

Thanks, kid.

And that’s when I got the call. The call from my mother, reaming me out for not calling and insisting that they come down and spend Christmas with us. They’re driving down on the 23rd, and staying until the 27th. That is more time than I care to spend cooped up with my parents. Things could get ugly and not in the bloody way.

Why, god, why, is Christmas the one time you wish to torture me? It’s my one excuse to take time off of work and really focus on the important things but no, you just had to invite my parents.

I’m going to have to start cleaning the house now if it’ll be even close to dad’s standards and I haven’t really spoken to my mother since she told me that she’s the one who got my sister arrested.
It’s times like these, I am so grateful that my kids hate their grandparents, as well. I can drag them along and use them as a shield.

It’s going to suck.

But I killed a cat, that’s something, right?

Someone please arrest me for murder so I don’t have to spend Christmas with my mother.

Maybe next year, things will go according to plan.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Wednesday, 10 December 2014

Your Mid-Week Update for 12/10/14

Comics. Jason is crazy into comics.

I feel slightly less like the worst mother those kids have ever had. Now I’m…second.

Over the weekend, I intruded – as all mothers do, apparently – and got a good look around Jason’s room. While he was there, of course, I still value our little bond of trust.

I walk in and he’s working on his computer while listening to some band I’ve never heard of.

I should have pointed out earlier, I’m going to sound incredibly old in this week’s update. I am deeply shamed.

He told me the name of the band but I honestly don’t remember. I do remember somehow managing to get him to open up to me a little. And I immediately regretted it. I have no idea what the hell he was talking about. Something about the casting for ‘Suicide Squad’ and the ‘teaser trailer for …something something’. To be honest I tuned him out after a while.

I’m glad he has somewhat but not irrevocably clichéd interests. It could always be worse.

Now when I say “working on his computer” I mean, he’s sitting on his floor seemingly rebuilding the computer I bought him after disassembling it. According to him, he got bored over the summer while I was in “rehab” and decided to explore the inner workings of his computer. And now he has no desktop.

“But don’t worry, mom, I still have the laptop I bought.”


I suppose I shouldn't complain. He's a kid l who takes apart his computer because he's bored, and spends months trying to put it back together (but eventually will, I hope); he has a mild obsession with superheroes, and he's had a steady girlfriend for the last two years. The boy defies the laws of fiction.

The least I can do is trust that he’ll be okay.

And not destroy anything else I buy him. That shit is expensive.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Wednesday, 3 December 2014

Your Mid-Week Update for 12/03/14

I don't know if you all remember my little psychotic break a few months back. In one of my entries I mentioned killing a person by means of various gaping wounds inflicted with a steak knife. Apparently that was written in a moment of lucidity. Huh.

James and I were cleaning out the garage this weekend and we found a bag of bones. Now normally we're very good about not having bones just lying around our home so we assume it's from my little...episode. We also found marks in some of the bones consistent with the murder I described. 

We think I lured someone home, killed them, skinned them, disposed of the organs somehow (garburator?) and then stored the bones in the garage intending to get rid of them but didn't get around to it. I just don't remember any of it.

Which is a damn shame because that's really cool. I hate not knowing anything about my victims. It feels so impersonal. 

After we dumped a couple bones in the river, gave one to the neighbour's dog, and buried a few more in the local park, my lovely husband and I started our sleuthing. We made sure the skull was somewhere it would be found with most of the teeth in fact. We're hoping it's enough for a forensic pathologist to give the police more details than we have. This is so complicated.

So much for setting up the tree this weekend.

Merry fucking Christmas

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Monday, 1 December 2014

Cover Reveal for Starfall (Starstruck #4)

Cover Reveal for Starfall (Starstruck #4) by Brenda Hiatt
Pre-Order Dec. 10th, 2014
Release Date Feb. 24th, 2015 

STARFALL: The electrifying conclusion to the Starstruck series!
M, now Sovereign Emileia, has overcome incredible odds to save the Martian colony Nuath from destruction. But at what cost? Her soulmate Rigel has had all memory of her erased and is now on his way back to Earth. Without Rigel, life seems pointless but she’s expected to shake off her heartbreak and assume the responsibilities of leadership. Reluctantly, M does what she must until a glimmer of hope has her racing a quickly-closing launch window to return to Earth—and Rigel. Once there, she intends to do everything she can to restore Rigel’s memory and rekindle their love—if it’s not already too late.

About Brenda Hiatt:

Brenda Hiatt is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of twenty novels (so far), including sweet and spicy historical romance, time travel romance, humorous mystery and a new young adult science fiction series. In addition to writing, Brenda is passionate about embracing life to the fullest, to include scuba diving, Taekwondo, hiking, traveling, and reading, of course! Brenda collects data on writers' earnings, which she shares at her website, Website. Find more about her YA series at Starstruck Website
You can find Brenda on Facebook at and on Twitter at or subcribe to her newsletter at Subscribe

Cover Reveal for Watch Me Burn

I am thrilled to take part in the cover and trailer reveal for Book 2 in The December People Series, Watch Me Burn!

So without further ado...

A note from the author:

Thank you to artist Michelle Johnson and the whole team at Curiosity Quills Press for creating a cover I love! 

If you haven't guessed it by now, you'll see a butterfly on the cover of every book in The December People Series. The butterfly is a symbol of transformation, hope, freedom, and generally creepy crawlies turning into beautiful things. And also...look how pretty! ;)

Instead of the broken glass from Destruction, this butterfly is surrounded by fire, and it's probably obvious why from the title. Watch Me Burn is the summer book in the series. All the books center around my winter wizard family, but each book takes us deeper into a different season. Summer wizards are the "light" wizards, but light also means HEAT and FIRE.

More about Watch Me Burn:

David Vandergraff lost his home, his job, and contact with his oldest son, but remains determined to be a good husband and father despite being a dark winter wizard.

His resolve is tested when a flyer for a missing girl--who happens to be a summer witch--begins to haunt him. David believes a spell needs to use him to save her, so he follows the magic's command and looks into her disappearance. His teenage daughter Emmy resents him for caring so much about a random stranger. But when she uncovers some disturbing evidence close to home, she begins an investigation of her own.

David and Emmy quickly learn that the mystery is not only about a missing girl they barely know, but a deeply personal story that impacts everyone they care about. As their world crumbles, they fear the warning may be true—never mess with summer wizards, because the good guys always win.

If you're new to The December People Series, start with Destruction--99 cents for a limited time!

Enter to win!! Get a paperback of your choice of Destruction OR Watch Me Burn. International entries welcome. Also join The December People Winter Celebration for more giveaways!!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Wednesday, 26 November 2014

Your Mid-Week Update for 11/26/14

Cold and flu season is upon us and for that reason, I bring you this public service announcement:

For god’s sake: stop coughing!

The next person to stand in line behind me at the grocery store or come to my desk in a coughing fit is going to get an ice pick to the eyeball. The left one. Because I’m partial to the left eye so maybe I’ll start a collection.

Seriously, Heather has been sick all week and so have half the staff on my floor. Three times this week, I was out running errands and someone coughed or hacked in my face and only two of them apologized. It’s as if people lose their last shred of civility when they feel a little under the weather.

Just don’t be in public if you’re that sick. Do you have any idea how annoying you sound? All the phlegm and the clammy hands and the runny noses and the coughing.

It’s the coughing that really gets me.

It is silent and peaceful and I can sit at my desk and concentrate when suddenly someone will start coughing and that’s all I can focus on. If it would help, I’d rip out their vocal chords or make them a cup of tea – one of the two. Just. Stop. Coughing. I beg of you.

It’s bringing back my urges with full force and my desire to shut up the plague-infested rats is actually very strong. I’ve taken to using the lame-ass stress ball Dr. Owlface gave to me last month. “If you ever feel a moment of desire for violence, use it to absorb your tension” he said.

There isn’t a stress ball big enough to absorb my tension. That’s what I have my husband and children for.

Those poor darlings have been absorbing a lot of my frustration lately. Just in the last few weeks with the stupid army or sicklings invading my space. I’ve taken to scolding and shouting over little things and it gotten so bad that Sandra called me out on my shit on Saturday.

I don’t understand why that girl wants to be a research analyst when she has the ability to put a serial killer in her place. That takes a lot of skill. I suppose I’m obligated to support her no matter what she does.

But research analyst?

I’m still not positive I know what that entails. But she’s confident in what she wants so that’s all I can ask for. I wonder about her brother, though. He really enjoys…


I don’t know what he’s interested in.

Good lord, I am a horrible mother. Have I just not been paying attention?

Have I ever talked about Jason’s interests? If I have, please let me know in the comments. This is really going to bother me. I’m going to have a talk with James tonight.

Sweet Jesus.

Sorry, I just can’t believe I can’t think of a single thing off the top of my head. This is embarrassing and very distressing.

I need a day.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

(And stay healthy, for both our sakes)

Wednesday, 19 November 2014

Your Mid-Week Update for 11/19/14

There is this independent coffee shop not three blocks from my house that sells the best dark roast I have ever tasted. It's got this rich flavour to it, that just...mmm. I'll definitely be going back there.

Of course I only know about this magical coffee shop because of Daniel.

Someone likes to frequent this mythical caffeine station after a night of stalking me. Last Thursday, I put James's plan into action.

I stalked the stalker.

If Daniel Westburn is going to try and find out my secrets, then I'll find out his.

It starts with patterns.

Every morning around 5am, he drives away from my house, presumably to return to his cabin in the woods. I think even he knows there's no way in hell I have time to kill between 9-5 on a weekday.

I mean I could if I wanted to but not these days.

I'm still okay with being killless, by the way. I'm biding my time, making it worth the stress I put myself through to get this far.

Dr. Owlface says I'm recovering surprisingly well and even lowered my dosage.

James lets me talk about my psychiatric treatment but not our sex life.


Anyways, Daniel heads to the coffee shop every morning and orders a large dark roast and puts one sugar in it. The coffee is very good and it's served by this hunky guy who barely speaks English.

Now that I've established this minor pattern, I can start expanding. I tried to follow him past the coffee shop but I lost him behind a semi. I'm getting there, though. My goal is to learn his morning routine by the end of the month.

I wonder where he goes home at night. Does he still have his job? I know his stalking isn't on company time.

What is he giving up for me?

I've been thinking about that a lot lately. Wondering what it is that drew him to me. James keeps making references to Jaws and I take it as the compliment it is - I do. I like being the unattainable creature, violent and beautifully powerful.

But it doesn't stop me thinking about it.

I shall continue to contemplate it over my dark roast coffee.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Friday, 14 November 2014

Night of Pan

Night of Pan, by Gail Strickland

Genre: young-adult, historical-fantasy

Publisher: Curiosity Quills Press

Date of Release: November 7, 2014

Series: Book One of The Oracle of Delphi Trilogy

Cover Artist: Ricky Gunawan


The slaughter of the Spartan Three Hundred at Thermopylae, Greece 480 BCE—when King Leonidas tried to stop the Persian army with only his elite guard—is well known. But just what did King Xerxes do after he defeated the Greeks?

Fifteen-year-old Thaleia is haunted by visions: roofs dripping blood, Athens burning. She tries to convince her best friend and all the villagers that she’s not crazy. The gods do speak to her.

And the gods have plans for this girl.

When Xerxes’ army of a million Persians marches straight to the mountain village Delphi to claim the Temple of Apollo’s treasures and sacred power, Thaleia’s gift may be her people’s last line of defense.

Her destiny may be to save Greece…
…but is one girl strong enough to stop an entire army?

Find Night of Pan Online:


About The Author:

While studying the Classics in college, Gail Strickland translated much of Homer’s ILIAD and ODYSSEY, Herodotus’ prophecies and THE BACCHAI by Euripides. Living on the Greek islands after college, she discovered her love of myth, the wine-dark sea and retsina.

THE BALTIMORE REVIEW and WRITER’S DIGEST have recognized Gail’s fiction. She published stories and poems in Travelers’ Tales’ anthologies and the San Francisco Writer’s anthology. Her poetry and photography were published in a collection called CLUTTER.

Born in Brooklyn, New York, Gail grew up in Northern California. She raised her children; was a musical director for CAT children’s theater; taught music in schools; mentored young poets and novelists and introduced thousands of youngsters to piano and Greek mythology. Gail is passionate about bringing the richness of Homer’s language and culture to today’s youth.

Find Gail Strickland Online:

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Google +

Wednesday, 12 November 2014

Your Mid-Week Update for 11/12/14

My pants-losing antics are getting worse. 

In two-ways, I suppose.

Nevermind, I promised James I'd stop talking to strangers about our sex life.

So I keep losing my pants.

After I got back from the hospital, I went on a shopping spree - sort of a "new me, less money" philosophy. Among many purchases that I don't care if my husband finds out about because we are financially independent of each other, I bought the most fabulous pair of pants. Seriously, it's like they were sculpted specifically for my ass. I love those pants.

The first time I wore them, James was so turned on he


The point is: the pants were awesome and I keep losing them. First they were under the bed, then they were in Jason's laundry, then they were in the dishwasher - I don't know, I swear - and now it's been a week and I can't find them. I'm deeply troubled by the amount of times I've misplaced this simple garment. 

But it's not just the perfect ass-pants. I feel like I've been so scatter brained lately. I misplace simple work documents, I left someone on hold for half an hour, I drove all the way to work with Jason in the backseat - why he asked for a ride to school that early in the morning, I still don't know for sure. I feel like I can't focus because I'm thinking about all the other things I need to do. And with the added stress of Daniel breathing down my neck, it's getting a bit ridiculous how much I'm expected to juggle. 

I haven't killed in many months now, and while the pills are keeping me in check, it’s still a daily struggle not to give in to my natural urges. James is helping, the kids are keeping me distracted with their school and life drama (there’s this bitch, Kelly, in Sandra’s class…I’ll talk about it later) but it’s not enough.

I need to kill. But with Daniel around I can’t. All he needs is one slipup and I’m done. I can’t risk my family but can I compromise my sanity again?

Daniel needs to back off. He’s only going to do that if I send a message that makes him back off.

I think it’s time to put James’s plan into action.

Wish me luck.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Wednesday, 5 November 2014

You Mid-Week Update for 11/05/14

I don't talk about the ins and outs of my work - for obvious reason - but there are some things you know: I work in a corporate office, my secretary is incredibly competent but has the personality of a puppy, and I've been passed over twice for promotion.

I like my job. I sit behind a desk most of the day so I could probably stand to go to the gym more often but in general, I like my job. It has steady hours, excellent pay for the current economic market, and my workload is only stressful during year end which is definitely manageable when I can pawn things off on others and release tension by playing "which drunk is stupid enough to go into the back alley with me". What more could a girl ask for?

I also rant about Heather insesently because she doesn't know when to shut up but the only reason she's not dead or unemployed is because she gets the job done with incredible efficiency. She and I butted heads when I first joined the company and she came on as my secretary. I think I remember telling you about the bitchy pencil skirt with cougar nails who talked back to me my first day on the job but still made sure I was completely prepared for my 9am meeting. All these years later and she still sasses me at every turn and spends so much time taking (loudly) to others on our floor and yet she always has everything organized and ready even before I need it and some days, I even get coffee in the morning.

I think she's a witch.

All of that aside, we've never been close and I've been very happy to keep it that way.

Yesterday was going quite well. Quiet; I got a bit of work done. Until just after lunch when I got a call from the front desk telling me there was a man downstairs refusing to leave until he spoke to Heather and she wasn't at her desk and security was refusing to remove him because he so far hadn't made any direct threats and was simply being a nuisance.

I found Heather locked in a bathroom stall like she was some teenager.  But I took pity on her so I awkwardly stood outside the door while she cried and I told Ken to escort the mysterious man off of our property. Heather is actually one of those people who can cry and still look good. Like I needed another reason to hate her.

Eventually she opened the door and told me the man was her soon-to-be ex-husband. He found out about her affair and not only was he filing for divorce, he was threatening to took his frustrations out on her.

She hadn’t been home in a week.

A part of me thinks she would deserve it, but the other part of me cleaned her up, snuck her out the back door, and told her to take the rest of the day off.

I would never consider Heather a real friend of mine but I still thought – hoped – that she would come to me or someone in the office is she needed help. I can’t believe she’d let it get this far without running her mouth.

I can’t imagine what she’s going through. I’m lucky enough that I don’t have to worry about my safety with James – and that’s saying a lot between a police officer and a serial killer – but to be so afraid of the person you agreed to spend your life with…

I pray neither James nor I ever find that out.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Heather doesn’t come in today.

I don’t think I’d blame her.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe 

Friday, 31 October 2014

Rule Book: A Guide

There are rules for everything. Rituals for enduring the world. Disobeying yields serious consequences. And there is nothing more superstitious than death and the supernatural.

Death is not to be toyed with – neither is the unexplained magic in the world. She has rules and if you break even one of her rules, I cannot be held accountable. During Samhain, the veil between the worlds is so thin that death herself can step from the spirit realm and stalk the streets.

These are just a few of her rules:

·         Don't walk alone at night
·         Don't answer the door if you don’t know who’s there
·         Don't split up when you’re in a group
·         Arm yourself with a weapon – any weapon
·         Don't hesitate for even a moment
·         Don’t be curious
·         and
·         Don't. Fall. Asleep.

I cannot stress how important these rules are, especially on All Hallows Eve. That day does not belong to you. It belongs to the spirits and it belongs to death. And she is unforgiving.

Of course there are those rule related to the more recent tradition associated with All Hallows Eve (or Hallowe’en). Trick-or-Treating:

·         Always check your candy – do not presume that the world is fair and kind; it never was
·         Wear a Costume – if you must go out, hide from the spirits and they will hide from you
·         Pass out treats – appease the spirits with gifts
·         Never blow out a Jack-o-lantern – they’re there to protect you, I promise; they guard your soul

And the last is not a rule at all, it’s your only tool for survival:
  • Don’t ever, for even a moment, imagine that you’re alone

Because you’re not. You never are. They’re always with you. Like a shadow – but so much worse. They know everything about you. They’ve been with you since birth. And if you break a rule – especially on Hallowe’en – they’ll take advantage of the opportunity.

There are rules. They’re not many but they’re strict. I’m telling you the rules so that you know. And you can save yourself.

Tell others. But also…

If you get this message, please, know that I'm sorry. I didn't understand. She was protecting me. This place. It's...I didn't know. If you see someone who looks like me, do not interact with her. I know why they put her in the mirror.

My reflection – my shadow, but so much worse.

I’m so sorry.

I didn’t know.

Thursday, 30 October 2014

Blackout: A Scene



I'm recording this so that whoever finds my body will understand what they're seeing.



It’s dark. The cellphone she’s recording her message on flashes green every six seconds, illuminating her left eye and occasionally her nostril.

She is JULIA, scared shitless. All we see of her is her left eye, a bleeding cut from her temple to her nose, and her quivering mouth. She is recording a message, her last message, to tell her superiors her story. Her voice is always hushed, whimpering, and panicked, spoken frantically like she’s scared she’ll run out of time.

My name is Lieutenant-Colonel Julia Williams. I am - was head of a reconnaissance mission out of the One Military Police Regiment of the Canadian Armed Forces. You'll most likely find my body about ten kilometres northwest of Conrad, Yukon.

She takes a long, deep breath before she continues, her voice stronger because she has to be.


My team of seven including myself was made up of Captain James Holder, Lieutenant Wes Kawalski, Lieutenant Amy Grainger, Officer Cadet Harrison Grainger, Sergeant Graham Reynolds, and Private Recruit Maurice Ygraine. Please notify their families of their passing. And apologize. You killed them.

She brings her cellphone close to her mouth, taking up what little her camera light is picking up.


We came here on orders from my superior, investigating mysterious disappearances outside of a training camp in Conrad. We found them. We found their bodies.

JULIA begins to sob quietly, her whimpers filling the silence, though as she continues to speak, her sobs become louder, more desperate.


Oh god. There's something in the woods.  I couldn't see it. It was too dark. But they're all gone. I could hear it. Most of our equipment was destroyed. I don't know where I am. My legs. I can't move my legs. Oh god. I can hear it. I'm sending this message to my commander. I hope you get this. I have one bar. I tried to call but no one answered. Why didn't you answer?

In the distance we hear the sound of snarling – like a jungle cat – and rustling leaves.


Oh god. It's getting closer.

She is crying now. Her eyes shut, lips quivering, she barely whispers into the camera’s microphone-


I wanna go home.

-before her crying becomes a scream of terror that fades back at least several feet. The camera falls facedown, illuminating darkness covered up by dried up leaves. We hear three cries of pain in short succession, all followed by a growl, like it’s an effort to perform this task. After this, JULIA cries out enraged, broken. We hear her voice from several feet away.

(Screaming, cursing)

You did this to me! You did this to me!

A sound catches in her throat and we know she is dead. A loud thump rattles the leaves and heavy breathing fills the air. Everything is silent except for the breathing when suddenly a gunshot rings out. Whatever killed JULIA snarls and growls but the sound becomes distant. It’s running away.


We shot him!

We don’t know anything about these NEW VOICE(S) except that they arrived too late. The two of them are silent a moment – no doubt taking in the horrific scene before them.


Oh my god. What did this? Did he-

NEW VOICE2 suddenly begins retching. NEW VOICE1’s voice is soothing.


Hey, are you okay?

NEW VOICE2 takes several deep breaths, trying to regain their composure.


What the hell happened here?


I don’t-hey what’s that?

Two sets of footsteps slowly approach the cellphone. Suddenly the camera is on two men, illuminated by a flashlight held by one of the men (NEW VOICE2). They are both wearing thick, black sweaters, NEW VOICE1 wears a yellow toque. Both men come to the same realization and their eyes widen.


She was recording? Holy shi-