A Lie (Novel) Preview

Beautiful Liar

I use to be like you, naïve and care free
I use to wish for a dream come true and all that shit
but I am more real than I once thought I truly was
Nightmares and dreamscapes only come true in your sleep
Awake all there is, is tragedy and wishful thinking
The streets are filled with the slowly dying
and the buildings and offices are filled with the damned
My eyes were once closed, but now they are always open
I drain the blood from the streets and sweep up the dead
The only job I have left
The only job I was condemned

 

Turn Out the Light

I begin my day by waking up like most of humanity, but in a hint of irony I don’t think that I ever truly wake up. My first thoughts are to find some drugs, but I failed to get more last night or save any for this morning. So now I am beyond hopeless. I light up a cigarette and take a couple of drags before stumbling my way to the bathroom to piss. There is a huge bruise on my left inner thigh and I can’t recall how in the world I got it, but now that I know I have it my leg begins to hurt. I move to the kitchen and open the frig door more out of habit than anything else considering I already know that there isn’t anything inside it anyways. More thoughts creep in my head and this is why I should have saved at least one more hit. My second real thought of the day is that I have to work later. I already know hours in advance that I will be thirty minutes late, but I also know that they won’t say anything. In some sick sad way they feel sorry for me or they act like they know something I don’t. Either way this pisses me off beyond belief. I don’t say anything because I need the money now more than ever. I close the frig door and start to get ready for work. It’s not a long process so, I’m out the door before I even realize it. I send her a text that I know she will never respond to. I send her a text that says, “I love you and I miss you”, but it was a waste of twenty seconds. I start my car up and pull out of the parking space. I stop by the dealer’s house before heading to work. I barely had enough money to get what I will need for the next few days of my miserable life. I need to conserve as much as I can before I get paid again or things just might get worse. I laugh at the thought but it is more real than I can even comprehend right now. The drug dealer sends his best and this pisses me off. I could barely stop from doing a hit right on his front porch but I make it to the car. I head to work and today is already a waste.

Sixteen and fucking stupid. Sixteen year old girls pretend to be so stupid and dizzy about the dumbest things. As if a five-year old doesn’t understand how much something costs. How hard does one person have to be dropped on their head to not understand the concept of money in America? Yet this woman standing in front of me isn’t sixteen, though she acts like it, hell I don’t think she is even in her twenties anymore and if she is she looks fucking rough. Her and her rather large but not for this area boyfriend, who decided today wasn’t a good day to wear sleeves, stand in front of my register. There is a horrible smell coming from somewhere, but I’m not sure where. They have decided to purchase some beer, her pleasure condoms, and this week’s special two regular sized candy bars at the value price of a dollar. The slightly overweight woman who really doesn’t need one more candy bar asks me, “If the tag says two for a dollar does that mean I have to get two candy bars to get the sale price?” My mind flashes to the many possible answers I want to say to her stupid question like do you really need two or are you fucking retarded? Because if you are retarded that is fine, but if you’re just pretending, that’s fucking sad. I calmly tell the woman you can still get the sale price if you purchase just one as I hide my twitching hand from her view. And just so there is no confusion I tell her that they are fifty cents apiece. She gives me a look that makes me wonder maybe this isn’t an act. She really is slow in the head. She decides the best way to go is to get two. “They’re only a dollar,” she says with a giggle. Her next words will haunt me for as long as I live. “You got this don’t you Big Daddy?” I want to vomit all over her, and for the first time tonight it isn’t from the drugs. The man, known only as “Big Daddy,” steps up to the counter and reveals just exactly where the horrible smell in the air has been coming from. He is wearing a sleeve less shirt that says, “Taken Care of Businesses,” on it. His sleeve less arms are quite hairy and sweaty despite the fact that it can’t be more than forty degrees outside. His hairy arms release an odor so wretched that the smell is burning my raw nostrils. I have resorted to breathing through my mouth, as little as I possibly can. The sooner they leave the sooner I can breathe. I can feel my face getting redder as my blood starts to accumulate in my face making it feel even hotter in the room than it already is. I feel as though I am trapped under water. The couple begins to speak. I think they are telling a joke, but all I can hear is my heart beat pounding in my head not the words coming out of their mouths. I don’t understand why they keep talking when I’m not saying anything back. I don’t understand what is going on. They are laughing and smiling, and the smell is somehow getting worse. It hurts, but I pretend to laugh anyways with them. I must pretend to be normal and that everything is okay. I must appear normal I chant to myself as my hand is still twitching and my leg has joined in. My mantra of normal is really starting to fuck me up. What is normal at a time like this? I hand the change to “Big Daddy” and the woman steps even closer to the counter, close to my face, closer than anyone should ever be, and she looks me right in the eyes. She says, “The secret is to have lots of sex.” I swallow the vomit that has found its way into my mouth and force a smile. I have no idea why she is telling me this, but I am grateful that they at least bought condoms. Now if they understand how to use them is a whole other question. My guess is that reading is difficult at their level of intelligence so probably not. It is another sad day on planet earth.

 

Last preview of the month and it is a long one… Like most things in my life this is nothing but fiction… Except Big Daddy is real.. He walks among us… Don’t fear the reaper… Fear the stench… Until tomorrow… Best of luck….

Broken Up Thoughts

Her eyes twitch in the moon light. The reflective light from the sun dances across her retinas signifying the end of a once miserable life. The imprint of my rough hands forever left stained around her neck. She said she would always be mine and now despite everything that has happened before tonight the lie has become true. I will always remember our last seconds together as the life escaped from her. The bits of saliva that oozed from her dying lips to my hands. It is still warm as I wipe what’s left across my chest. Her hearts stopped pounding a second ago yet her fingers feel icy cold. The blue in her face makes her seem angel like. She looks as I will always picture her, isolating and unperceptive of her actions. She didn’t suffer enough. She didn’t struggle enough. I wanted her to feel pain. I wanted her to feel like I do. Instead she gave in to the truth, the fact that this was the end. She got the best of me once again.

 

I’m obsessed with hearts lately. Maybe because mine is so destroyed and shattered. I feel the loneliness wash over me, but I don’t understand what’s really going on. I mean I am alive after all, so what does it mean if I want to die? To disappear far away from here? Everyday is like the last four hundred, but I am sure I’m okay even if I believe that I am not. Life moves and goes at a constant speed. Everything is just a phase and I’m sure this one will pass. Same as the ones before. Nothing last forever.

 

“When you give up on your dreams it is like the rest of you has died away. You no longer want what becomes because you already know what will never be. It’s a sad existence from that point on. A pointless position in a line of every disappointing disappointment.”
“You done feeling sorry for yourself or should I go get a gun?”
“Totally not funny Gwen. Plus it takes a couple of days to get a permit.”
“I’ve got one on file just encase of situations like this.”
“You’re such an asshole.”

 

It is hotter than a crotch in this fucking place. I’m still very behind on putting together my office. Writing and working on this site, twitter, and two books at the same time will do that to some people. I’d love to just put all that aside and get this office finished, but no work, no need for this office. So I sit sweating it out in the hot, hot heat. Oh and it’s fucking fall… My ass… Drinking never helps this… What all the greats did it.. (Insert a great writer of your choice.) Peer pressure from the dead… 

Time to sell that soul.. So I want to put the word out on other people’s books as well, but I feel it is way to forward to just do it… So if you are cool with it let me know and I will add your book or project… Well here is more of my shit…

 

 

 

 

The Death Bringer

I drag her body to the back forty of our property. It has rained hard for the last three days. Tonight though, the sky is clear as I drag her body. Her attempts at screaming fill the autumn air, and warn the neighbors that something is wrong. I brought a shovel and a pickaxe with us tonight. They will do most of the work tonight, but only with my help. I drop her leg and toss the shovel to my left make sure she can’t reach it. I take the pickaxe into both of my hand and raise it high above my head. She lets out a whimper afraid I will use it on her. Not yet sweetie. I bring the pickaxe down with everything I’ve got over and over, loosening the ground even more in to a sunken hole. That I will dig out soon with the shovel. She’s still breathing, but she is in no condition to get up and start running. Broken bones will do that. The ground makes a strange noise as I pull the pickaxe out of it. She begins to moan with every hammering thud of the pickaxe. I only imagine what it is she is thinking.

It should come as no surprise that I’m digging her grave tonight. She tries to roll over, but it’s hard with broken ribs. She grips the grass digging her nails into the dirt as she tries to pull away from her new home in the ground. Her attempts are useless she’s only hurting herself on her own now. She uses all her strength to scream again. With each one of her screams I can hear her pain and I like it. I take the shovel now and dig out the loosened ground piling it next to her. I throw chunks of earth on her face to give her a taste of her new home and to give her whining a rest even if it is only for a moment. She tries to spit the mud out of her mouth. She can’t get it all. The outline of the hole isn’t rather large, but I don’t need it to be I can fit her body anyway I need. After what seems like a life time of building up her final resting place it is big enough to fit her broken body. I pick her up and she tries to bite my neck and scratch my shirtless back. The mud on her nails doesn’t allow her the pleasure of hurting me. She slams on to her back as I throw her into her grave. “What do you know a perfect fit,” I spit into her face. She cries out, but it only hurts to cry at this point. She musters up the strength to say, “You’ll never get away with this you piece of shit.” I slam the pickaxe down one last time silencing her one last attempt to piss me off. “I know, but that’s all right,” I tell her dying body.

I leave the pickaxe sitting in her forehead and pick up the shovel. The removed earth splashes against her dead face. Falling into her open mouth and covering her opened eyes. It would look beautiful, but my mind is in another place. “Your world is dead to me. Your laws mean nothing,” I scream at her dead body as I fill her grave. The cops will arrive in the morning thanks to the concerned neighbors, but it’s too late and it doesn’t matter. No one will be a hero for taking me in. Someone will try to become one though. They will write a shitty book about their heroic actions at the scene, made up lies told in attempt to make a dollar off my actions tonight. They will give me some catchy name like Pickaxe Murderer or the Death Bringer or something fake and stupid. All the while I rotten in some jail cell waiting to die, but I’m already dead inside.

They will try to retire off my name and become a legend, but what they don’t realize is that they will only make my legend grow in the mindless sheep of the world. I finish burying her body and smooth over the dirt on top. The handle of the pickax is still sticking out of the dirt pointing to the house. I figure this is a good enough grave maker if any. Wonder how long it will take to “find” me I think as I walk back to the house. I open the side door and walk to the recliner next to the sofa. I pull the lever to release the leg rest and lean back. It’s going to be a long day, so I better rest up.

I don’t like to comment on stories and there is no reason for that, but… This one is actually part of a series of stories… The story actually doesn’t follow one character, but several in an attempt to explore the evolution of murder…. I think that this story and each part can hold up on its own, but if you’d like to read the others they are available in my book Drinking Bleach….

Everyone Is A Character

11/29/09

The devil may have his due, but I will have my day. I will have my reign and oh how it will rain. My vengeance and justice will pour down on all the men and woman who disobeyed me. Those of you who would not follow my orders when I told you to lead. The whole world will be mine and only mine, and every man, woman, and child shall be my slave and I their master. I will pave the way with the bodies of those who dare to disobey me ever again. The weak will be hung from poles lighting my destruction across the world. This wave of violence will be my repayment for all that was done to me. This and only this could ever be seen as forgiveness in my eyes. Mark my words I will make you bleed. I will make you pay for every little thing that has been done. Now keep your fucking dog off my god damn lawn asshole.

Sincerely,

Your Neighbor.

 

This is a fun one because it is based on fact. Well kind of… It wasn’t all too bad though… Since the dog couldn’t read so she wasn’t offended by any of this… Though secretly I think she knew… She Knew What She Was Doing… 

People With No Name

“Is there anything I can help you find?” The customer looks over from the entry way of the store at the short stubby clerk standing behind the counter. The customer only came in for one item and has no idea where in this store it could possibly be.
“Yes you can I’m looking for. Oh it’s right there. Right in front of me the whole time.” The customer smiles as she reaches for the simple item on the shelf in front of her.
“Glad we could be of some help,” the clerk smiles. The customer gives off a short laugh as she carries the item to the counter.

“Me too. Does that happen a lot?”
“What do you mean?” The clerk asks the customer.
“Someone asks you where something is and they find it right in front of them?”
“Yes it happens a lot. They say it’s my gift.”
“That’s funny. Who says that?” the customer asks.
“The people with no name.”
“Who?,” the customer asks puzzled.
“The people with no name,” the clerk says calmly.
“Is that other customers?”

“No, I’m sorry I’ve said too much. I didn’t realize you didn’t know, never mind.”
“Know what?” the customer asks taken back.
“I’ve said too much. Are you ready to check out?”
“Where are these people you speak of?”
“If you must know they’re all around us. Can’t you at least feel them?”

The customer shakes her head and starts to become even more confused.
“They control everything and everything controls them. How do you not know about the people with no name?”
“Is there a manager or someone I can talk to?” the customer asks politely.
“Of course there is but why would you need to speak to them?”
“Because I do. In private if that’s okay?”
“Of course, of course just a moment please.” The clerk turns his head and begins to whisper as if someone is there, but there is no one the customer can see.

“The manager will be here in a moment.”
“But you didn’t even page or call anyone.”
“Yes I did,” the clerk says sternly.
“No you didn’t. Can you please page the manager for me?”
“Ma’am I already did and she will be here in just a moment.”
“What the hell is going on here?”

“How may I help you today?” A female voice asks.
The customer turns around to face the woman. “Are you the manager?”
“Yes I am, how may I help you?” She asks again.
“I need to talk to you in private,” the customer says as if to test the manager’s sanity.
“We have a non-believer,” the clerk informs the manager.
“Just because I don’t hear voices that make me a non-believer in something?,” the customer asks irate.
“You don’t hear them?” The manager asks politely.
“Hear what?” The customer demands.
“The people who have no name,” the manager says.
“There are no people here. Have you two lost your minds?”
“Ma’am there is no reason to be rude,” the clerk says.
The manager turns her head and begins to whisper and again no one is there.

“They say you are just not ready.”
“Not ready for what? Are you saying I’m not ready to hear voices in my head?”
“We don’t hear voices in our head ma’am. The voices are all around us. I tried to explain that the people are all around us, but I don’t think she understands.”
“How can she understand anything we are talking about if she does not believe?” The manager asks as if the customer isn’t even there.
“This is all just madness. I am calling someone I hope you know that and I’m never shopping here again.”

The customer throws her item up on the counter and storms out of the store. The manager calmly walks over to the counter and picks up the item, “Some people just aren’t ready yet.”
“I know it saddens me, but maybe one day.”
A hand reaches out from behind the clerk and rests on his shoulder.
“One day they will all believe,” the owner of the hand reveals.

No, I Am Life

“You know she is going to leave you.”

“I know this.”

“Yet you stay?”

“Things are going to work out the way they work out whether you want them to or not. Fate is fate and no matter what information one may have it can’t be changed.”

“You know how tragic that sounds?”

“I am more aware than you could possibly imagine. Having already seen it, having already felt it there is no worse fate than to keep on living with the knowledge of things to come.”

“You should just get out of this. Change your fate if you truly have the power to do so.”

“Useless time and energy spent on a useless resolution for one cannot change their fate. No matter how hard someone tries. She will leave me and not for some time. Her actions will leave me in a condition far worse than death, but I am expected to rise back up from this.”

“You are stupid.”

“No, I am life and she will be death. Have you not been paying attention?”

“You live in another world beyond ours I take it.”

“You mock me because you don’t understand. You mock me because you are afraid I may have news for you.”

“Do you know something you are not telling me?”

“I’d be lying if I told you no, but I’m afraid it is the only answer I have for you.”

Awaken

Blood drips from the walls, “Awaken.” Blood drips from the walls as shadows dance above me. They take the form of hooded nightmares, “Awaken.” They chant over and over for no reason at all until I obey. Shaking I reach for the glass on the nightstand. Straight whiskey and straight down. The whiskey makes me what to puke, even after all this time, to the point that I don’t know if I have or it is only the burn of the liquor. I light a cigarette as I sit up in bed. I can still hear their words just as I did as a child. “Awaken,” they chant but why? Why always the same nightmare from my past. The darkness of the room subsides as I put out the half-finished cigarette. I want to sleep but I want to reach for the light just as much. A darkness resides in me. A darkness I am no closer to understanding even into adulthood. I begin to drift asleep once again.

The blood drips down the walls of the hall. I hesitate before continuing the cold sticky feel with every step. A low light at the end of the hall grows as I get closer. The blood drips into pools as my eyes focus on the light. I enter the room at the end of the hall. Lite with candles I can see the bodies lying in the corners of the room. Living or dead I do not know. I can feel my pajamas becoming wetter and wetter as I stand there in horror. Scared I ball up on the floor. The figures rise and come towards me as I scream. “Awaken,” they chant as a bounding rhythm comes from beyond. I scream louder and louder until I awake to the sound of my neighbor pounding on the wall. “Awake the fuck up you freak,” he shouts. My pissed soaked pants clinging to my legs. “Fuck you,” I shout back. “Fuck you,” I whisper under my breath.

My therapist says that I should keep a sleep journal. Write down my thoughts and dreams. How I feel. Scared I feel scared and confused. The images don’t leave my mind I tell her every time. A sleep journal is pointless, but all she says is that it will help. Help what? Relive the same nightmare over and over again. My brain hurts from the hangover. My brain hurts from all the thinking. I want to drain my skull and forget it all. Hit the start over and watch it drift away. Can’t sleep without the drink. The drink is what got me in trouble. A cycle of bull shit. I wish I knew where this started. Wish I could remember so I could forget. The day goes on but it is the night that I fear.

Work is hard to come by for a drunk. Another lost job doesn’t mean much when you live in shit hole to begin with. I trade my food stamps for cash. Be easier if they only feed my addiction and not my stomach. I have another interview for some shitty job later today. The interview is easy. It is easy to get the job, but keeping one on no sleep and a deep hangover is the hard part. Even worse when the days bleed together as they have lately. Is today the interview? Or is it tomorrow? Taking another drink. “What does it matter anymore?” I ask no one in particular. A radiant silence feels the room. One more couldn’t hurt.

“Awaken for we are here. Awaken,” the voices chant. A wetness hits my head. Drip after drip, “You must awaken. The demon calls for a sacrifice. Awaken child for it is time.” I awaken as a drop of liquid smacks the center of my forehead. I wipe it clean and even the moonlight that lights my room I can tell that it is blood. Scared I scramble to sit up in my bed. Another drop smacks the top of my head. I look up at the ceiling and scream as I fall out of bed. A large dark spot rests over my bed. I begin to weep as I sit on the floor. What has been done? “Why are you so weak?” A voice from the corner asks. I can see a shadowy figure but can’t make out the features in the dark. “We had so much hope for you. You only failed us in the end,” the figure continues. I want to reach for the light but I am too scared. “Maybe it is because you were the last of them. Could that be why you are so weak? Could that be why you never fulfilled your purpose? Your brothers were no better. Dying in wars or failing after a few murders, but at least they embraced what they were,” the figure pauses. “What,” I finally bring myself to say. The figure ignores what I said, “You seek help and use alcohol like a crutch. So weak you have become. Could it because you are my son? Were we not hard enough on you as we were the others? I question our actions every day. Did we do the right things? Too much faith in one’s actions leads them to failure.” I wipe the tears from my face and only find more blood, “What happened to my neighbors upstairs?” “Don’t you know that after all this time you have awaken?” The figure asks. The scream of a little voice pierces the night air. “It would appear that you have missed one,” the voice states before laughing. “My child the failure.” “I am not your child,” I shout back. “Are you not? Rise and finish what you have started,” the figure shouts back. The screams upstairs have turned to loud sobbing. Without thought I stand up. I try to fight my actions as I grab the bloody knife off the nightstand and leave the room. Slowly ascending the stairs the knife drags against the wall leaving a trail to where I am going. The knife follows a similar path as before. Bloody footprints descends the worn out stairs. My footprints retrace my previous steps. How can I not remember this from before? Entering the apartment I look down the long hallway at the light at the end. A shadow dances from within the room as I continue my march along the path.  Bodies line the sides of the wall execution style. A child wanders around the room crying unable to console herself, unable to understand what has happened. Unable to see the hooded monsters that surround her. From behind me I hear the figure say, “Finish what you have started.”

“I didn’t start this,” I tell the voice. “Of course you did,” the figure laughs. “Who else could have done something like this?” The figure says in its cryptic voice. The unaware child is now aware of me. She walks to me eyes red from the rubbing, from the tears. She stands before me scared, but unsure. “You can’t fight what you are destined to do. Fate has a place whether you believe or not. Best to do what needs to be done,” the figures voice is somber but unapologetic. My body and soul on rails does what I tell it to not. I grab the child by the neck and push her to the ground. Her little body fights it but she contains no equal strength to myself. She hits the hardwood floor with a thud. Terror washes over her face. Even she can sense the danger she is in. I cut the child’s eyes out of her skull. I weep for my sins.  As I listen to her screams it becomes so clear that everything has led up to this. I slit her throat and watch as her little heart push the blood out of her throat until there is no more strength. Flashes of the past enter my mind. Face after face I realize the monster I have become, the monster I have always been. “In the darkness child is when we learn what we truly are. In the darkness is when our true self awakens,” the cryptic voice lingers in my mind. “Awaken.”