He twisted the knife deeper into her chest. The girl convulsed beneath him, her breathing shallow, her life fading. He watched as dark blood oozed around his fishing knife and stained his hands. It puddled around them both. He smiled, the devil on his lips, and a sense of pride washed over him.

The darkness was approaching the girl too fast, faster than he predicted. The corners of his mouth turned down.

“Aw, common honey. Just five more minutes?” He tilted his head to the side like a sad puppy. “Can you do that for me? Just hang on for five more minutes?” He begged.

The girl didn’t respond. She stopped breathing.

“Well, you’re no fun,” he sighed. “I guess playtime’s over.”

He got up off his limp play-thing and roughly removed the knife sunk deep into her chest. More blood splattered onto the floor.

He looked around the room, suddenly horrified at what he saw. He gasped.

“Look at this mess you’ve made!” He exclaimed, casting a dark glance at the body. “How many times have I told you to clean up after yourself? You know better, sweetie.” He placed both hands sternly on his hips. “Will I have to tell mommy about this?”


“That’s what I thought,” he nodded firmly. “But, don’t worry, it will be our little secret, okay?” He smiled sweetly at the corpse. He kneeled beside her and began stroking her hair. “You rest now. You’ve had a long day. Daddy will clean up your mess, okay?”

He stood, grabbing both of her heels. He dragged the corpse a couple of steps, dropped her feet and rolled her body into a garbage chute.

“Sweet dreams, my darling,” he called after her, as her body tumbled down. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite!”

He smiled to himself and began cheerfully humming

“What a lovely girl,” he said to himself. “If only she were my daughter…” He sighed.

Suddenly, he heard a soft scratching noise.

“Amelia!” He barked harshly.

“Yes, father?” A small, muffled voice asked.

“What did I tell you about making any noise while daddy is working?” He snarled.

“I’m sorry father…”

“Shut up!” He screamed, his voice echoing off empty walls.

He roughly ran his hands through his hair, clenching his teeth together.

“Daddy’s going out again to find you a new sister.” He said. “You stay in that closet, ‘ya hear?”

“Yes, father.” Amelia whispered.

“Good girl,” he mumbled. “Good girl.”

Slowly, his scowl disappeared. He breathed in and out deeply. Once he had composed himself he grabbed his dirtied knife, stuck it in his belt loop and started his search once more for the perfect daughter.

And he was a father of incredibly high standards.

~ ~ ~



Song of the day:

Karma Police- Radiohead 


A man sits on the bus. He’s older – maybe 60. Face and hands covered in dirty, brown splotches. Short and cracked fingernails. White hair – tangled, matted, greasy. A strong odour lingers in the air, his perfume of old cigarette smoke. Skinny, he didn’t eat everyday. A blank face, though, devious smirk plays on his lips. I watch him in odd fascination, quick glances. I don’t know why. My heart hurts for him. Melancholy dries my mouth. The man pulls the string – BING – and stands to get off. Grabs a black duffel bag, tucked under his seat. Probably clothes, I think. Throws shoulder strap across body and turns the bag around. The other side is mesh, tiny air holes. A small white dogs peaks out at me. Surprise! A maltese. Years of dirt trapped in its fur. Dark, grey fur. Sad, black eyes covered in brown gunk. Fur hung over eyes. It yawns, sticks out tongue and rolls it into mouth. So quiet and calm, I didn’t notice it. It braces self in the bag as the bus bounces aggressively over bumps. The man isn’t too careful with that bag. The bus screeches to a stop, the man with his dog hop off. Life goes on if they never existed. His heavy smell lingers. I turn my face towards the window, enjoying the warmth on this winter day.

~ ~ ~

speed bus

I used to take the bus everyday to school (because parking at the university sucks) and saw a lot of weird instances and people on my daily trips. This man and his little dog were a pair I saw and they stuck with me so much I just had to write about them. I couldn’t get them off my mind. What came about was this piece before you.

benedict cumberpatch

Song of the day:

Switch Lanes- Tyga 

Jabaja (everything and nothing)

everything and nothing

I want everything and nothing, all at once,

gluttonyTo swirl around me in a fury of colours.

I’ll be known as gluttony,

Disgusting as I may be,

Engrossing myself

And consuming all.



I want to dance on the sun

To hold the entirety of the universe in my hands

Hot tears to streak down my face like acid

To become music.

I want the sun to burst inside of me

The sweetest candy to pucker my soft lips


My hummingbird to beat its wings against my ribcage

The wind to run its rough hands through my hair

To scream until my voice runs away.



I want silence to ring through my ears

To let my body to be swallowed by thick moss

To see utter darkness in the daytime

To lie down and sleep forever.

I want the devil to take my soul

My shadow to become eraser shavings

My reflection to wave goodbye

I want birds to take my eyes,

Fire to take my toucheverything is nothing

Acid to take my tongue

Dumbo to take my ears

And dad to take my nose

So I can become a vegetable

And assume the persona of nothing.


~ ~ ~

Song of the day:

You don’t own me – Lesley Gore  

nacho libre

THIS is the bad guy?

***Distefansclaimer: this piece has strong and offensive language. Viewer discretion is advised***.

Part 1:

Lars Walker sits in a fancy restaurant at a table for two. The chair across from him is empty. He’s a tall man with a beer gut and has thin, black hair. Its slicked back tight to his head and is coated with too much gel – stiff and crunchy. He’s trying to grow in a beard but it isn’t working too well; it’s patchy and uneven. He wears a stripped purple suite – obviously not fashionable – with a black bow tie and pairs it with black rubber boots, for some reason. He has a cheap, dirty napkin folded neatly in the front pocket of his suit.

margot A waiter walks by his table. “Still waiting for your date, sir?” The waiter asks and smiles sweetly.

“No.” Lars says gruffly and frowns.

“Oh… You get stood up?” The waiter asks, sincerity in her tone. “I mean, it happens all the time so…”

“I did not get stood up.” Lars responds sharply. “Its just me for the evening.”

“On your reservation it says for two so I was wondering…”

“I lied.” Lars leans forward and sneers.

The waiter looks taken aback for a moment, composes herself, and gives Lars a dirty look.

“Weirdo.” She says under her breath as she walks away.

“I heard that, missy.” Lars turns fully in his seat, pointing one of his large sausage fingers in her direction. “Don’t think I won’t report you!” Lars calls after her, his voice escalating with every word.

the joker

Everyone in the restaurant goes quiet and turns to stare at Lars. Lars sticks his tongue out childishly and whips himself around in his seat, crossing his arms tight across his chest. Strange looks are passed from one guest to another but eventually everyone goes back to their own conversations.

Lars scowls to himself and buries his nose in the menu, mumbling under his breath. After a few minuets, Lars decides what he wants and sets his menu down roughly.

A lanky waiter comes around the corner and sees Lars waving his hand aggressively to get a waiter’s attention. He instinctively ducks away. He tries to hide from Lars by standing directly behind a tall plant. He wasn’t quick enough. Lars sees him right away.

howard the duck

“Wow, that was the lamest thing I’ve seen since ‘Howard the Duck’ came out on DVD.” Lars says dully, looking directed at the waiter, who gingerly peeks out from the plant. “Get your ass over here and take my god damn order.” Lars rolls his eyes. The waiter doesn’t move. “I’ll count to three.” In a sing-song voice he says, “One…two…” The waiter rushes over to Lars’s table, plasters a fake grin on his face.

“Please don’t kill me.” The waiter says, sweat dribbling down his forehead.

“Jesus.” Lars says, looking at the waiter with disgust. “You’re almost as disappointing as my teenage daughter. Almost.” Lars picks up his menu and pretend to busy himself at looking through it again.

“Uh…” The waiter shakily grabs his notepad and pen from his back pocket. “W-what can I get you, sir?”

“My name’s not ‘sir’. It’s Mr. Lars Walker. Got that?”

“Yes, sir. I mean…”

Lars ignores the seemingly incompetent waiter. “Lets get this over with before you wet your panties.” Lars sniffs the air and makes a face. “Or have you done that already?”

The waiter trembled at his every word.

“I’ll have a glass of your cheapest wine.” Lars looks up at the waiter and gives him the stink eye. “And I mean your absolute cheapest. I’m paying to get tipsy not to indulge myself in expensive wine, alight?”


“And I’ll have two orders of your breadsticks, your lobster, pasta primavera, and for dessert, the brownie explosion.” Lars speaks fast. He smiles sarcastically as he hands the waiter his menu.

“I didn’t get that. Could you…?”

“Get the fuck outta here.” Lars waves the waiter off and leans back in his chair.

The waiter runs away, nearly tripping over his feet in the process.

“What a fucking mess.” Lars mumbles under his breath.

A lady turns toward Lars. “Excuse me.” A lady at the table across from Lars says, anger in her tone. “There are children present.” She says in a motherly tone.

“You shoulda had an abortion, then you wouldn’t have to worry abbird is teh wordout these sorts of things.” Lars flips the lady his middle finger and sets his top teeth on his bottom lip, biting down.

“Well, I never!” The lady gasps. “Common, Charles.” She says to her husband as her family stands and leaves.

“Good riddance.” Lars yells after them.

A waiter rushes over to Lars’s table. “Jesus Christ…” Lars groans and rolls his eyes aggressively.

“Sir, your upsetting many of the guests. If you don’t quiet down, I’m going to ask you to leave.”

lawsuite“This is how you treat your highest paying customer?” Lars glares at the waiter. “I’ll have you know I have enough money to sue you twenty times over.”

“No need to make any threats.” The waiter takes a hasty step backward.

“Go get my food.” Lars says in a deep, menacing voice. The waiter rushes away.

“Stupid restaurant serves all these stupid customers and their stupid waiters are making me wait for my stupid food. Stupid…” Lars grumbles, sinking lower in his seat.

“Mommy, why is that man talking to himself? Is he crazy?” A little girl asks her mother.

Lars spins around. “Don’t talk about me like I can’t hear you, girl. I have ears everywhere, just like your mom has eyes everywhere. She sejazz handses everything but I hear everything.” Lars widens his eyes and wiggles his finger in the air, slightly doing the ‘jazz hands’ motion.

“Yup, definitely crazy.” The little girl nods once and goes back to munching on her food, quickly losing interest in Lars.

“You know what?” Lars exclaims, turning around in his seat. “Don’t even talk to me!” Lars trails off. “I’m very hangry right now.” He says in a softer voice, almost sad.

“Here you are.” A waiter sets two bowls of breadsticks on Lars’s table.

patty wack“Finally! Took you long enough to bring the fricken breadsticks.”

“Enj…” The waiter starts but stops midsentence as he watches Lars scarf down one bowl of breadsticks. The waiter promptly – and hurriedly – walks away.

~ ~ ~

I really really enjoyed writing this piece! I wanted to write about a villain that wasn’t stereotypical in his own right and what I came up with was Lars. I hate writing flat, boring characters who people have seen slightly different versions of. (Blech).

I love Lars because he doesn’t care about anything. I think in any villain’s downfall they seem to care about something immensely and this is their flaw. The Sandman (from Spider Man) cared too much about his daughter, The Joker is obsessed with The Batman and is unable to kill him whenever he gets the chance, Dr. Doom (from Fantastic 4) flaw is his arrogance and so on and so forth. I don’t think Lars really has a weakness, at least not at this moment. He’s just an asshole, who is unlikable to everyone he meets, who doesn’t care for anybody: he had no morality. He’s obviously insane. I also find his character extremely funny. The way he dresses and the way he talks, he reminds me of a “macho man” who thinks he’s better than anyone else. He’s also witty, or at least I tried to make it seem that way. I liked a couple of his comebacks he had for the people he talked to throughout this piece.

And if you didn’t find this funny, that’s okay. I have a really weird sense of humour. Sarcasm, rants, or dark humour are usually the routes I pick when writing humour at all.


Song of the day:

That’s what I like -Bruno Mars


Driving with the Devil

I have done a fair amount of driving in my short nineteen years of life. I wouldn’t say I particularity like driving – its become more mundane than anything. I don’t wag my tail and bounce up and down anytime someone says, “wanna go for a car ride?!” I mean, it’s kind of boring when you think about it. Push pedals, turn wheel – that’s about it.

When I was fifteen, I was so excited to get my learners licence; to drive.

dog driving

My birthday is late – the end of August. I was turning fifteen after most of my friends. While my classmates sped away in their cars, I saw their indulgence in independence and freedom and I craved that. I was on the outside looking in and I wanted to be like everyone else. I was jealous.

When I signed up for driver training class and got in, finally, I was terribly excited. I was one step closer to my emancipation.

Then I found out I barely knew anyone in that class.

ferris bueller

That was the biggest fear of any high school student – the sinking feeling of looking around the room, trying to find a place to sit with a familiar face, and finding no one. You scream internally, as you slowly sink yourself down in a chair.

For me, it was especially difficult. I was a shy, quiet girl who was too dependant on others. I felt awkward sitting alone while everyone else talked and laughed around me.

But, if I dropped the class I wouldn’t be able to drive and not being able to drive was worse than being alone in that class.

To make everything worse, the teacher was absolutely awful. I think we called her Mrs. Weiner, even though that wasn’t her name.

driving fast

It took me longer than most people to get my license and I think it was because of her I became afraid of driving, for a short time anyway.

She was someone you told ghost stories about around a campfire. Around the school, rumours about Mrs. Weiner spread fast.

I heard she purposely takes you down roads with potholes!”

A gasp. “Seriously?!”

I heard she’ll grab your steeling wheel and make you swerve!”

“No way!”

“Well, I heard she smears mud on your license plate to get you pulled over.”

“Oh my god, that’s terrible!”

Obviously these absurdly false stories didn’t help her reputation.

angry child

Mrs. Weiner was a peculiar lady. When you think of a driver instructor you think of a calm, tranquil person who eases you into driving. Mrs. Weiner was not this person. She was someone you wouldn’t think existed because she was so ridiculous.

First of all, she was blind in one eye. The person we were driving with saw the world split in half, right down the middle. She talked about it constantly and always reminded us of her bad eye. A constant warning of danger.

She had the most distinct walk to her. She had a bad leg and her walk was a combination of a hobble and a waddle.

For some reason I imagine her with a black eye patch and a wooden leg, limping down the school hallways, looking for her next victim to loot and pillage of all happiness. Feared in all the lands. Tales tell of Captain One Eye and how she could make a child cry with one look.

She hated her job. She hated the students. She hated teaching. But most of all, she hated people who couldn’t drive. Her job included all of these things.

Everyone hated her, and not just the students. I think the teachers avoided her like a rat with a machine gun on its back. She was the number one teacher who got the most complaints, mostly from very, very concerned parents.

I wondered why she never found a different job or retired, for clear reasons.

Driving with her was something I dreaded. I had no idea what I was doing. My body physically repulsed the idea of driving with that woman. I would get shaky and anxious and nauseous. My hands would grip the steering wheel so tight they wscaredould ache for hours afterwards.

I was like a tiny Chihuahua who would pee itself when a leaf blew by in the wind.

She was the angriest person I have ever met. I think someone with that amount of rage in them would have heart attacks daily. Her blood pressure must have been through the roof.

She would scream at you when you made any mistake at all. It was like she had a screechy microphone pressed up against your ear. It was hard not to swerve. The best way to describe her would be to think of driving with The Red Queen from “Alice in Wonderland”. She’s screaming, “OFF WITH HER HEAD!” and swinging at your neck. You’re trying to dodge the axe and save your skin while still trying to drive safely. “Difficult” would be an understatement.

An instance I remember driving with her went something like this.

“Turn left up here.” Mrs. Weiner said, in a bored voice.

“Left up here?” I said, my voice quiet and shaky.

modern family

“Yes.” Her voice was icy cold. I turned, my foot hit the accelerator too fast and I turned into the wrong lane.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” She screamed at me. She hit her brakes. Shock hit me first and then my seatbelt choked me and my head was inches from smashing into the steering wheel. Other cars honked their horns and cursed at me as they swerved around.

“I don’t know…” I mumbled back, trying to regain my nerves. I sank lower into my seat and blushed a deep red. Tears prickled my eyes.

“Well, you can’t sit in the middle of the road, lets go!” She said, her voice thick with irritation. Slowly, I put my foot on the accelerator and inched along. “Come on! Faster!”

Then, there was silence for a while and I was doing just fine, starting to relax. Stop lights were up ahead and I came to a nice, slow stop. I was filled with pride and I sighed. I took my hands off the wheel to wipe them on my pants, the sweat making them slip off the wheel.

“DON’T YOU EVER TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF THE STEERING WHEEL!” She yelled. Immediately my hands were back on the wheel, my arms rigid. “You’ll get a point off on your driver’s test if you do.” Silence. The sun began to stream directly into my eyes and I squinted and turned my head away. I couldn’t see the lights anymore; I didn’t know if they changed colour. I didn’t want to take my hands off the wheel again to put down the visor. She’d yell at me again. Frustration begins to root itself in my chest.

crazy driving

“What are you doing?” Mrs. Weiner said. “The light is green! Go!”

“I can’t see.” I whispered, slowly putting my foot on the accelerator, squinting into the bright light. I had no idea what was in front of me.

“Well, you should’ve brought sunglasses then, hmm?”

“Yeah…” I said quietly and swallowed hard.

Driving with her made me feel like the worst person in the world.

Obviously, my driving instructor did not understand how to speak to teenagers in a way that would get through to them. On a scale of passive to aggressive, she was far past aggressive. I felt sorry for her kids.

that don't impress meWhen I did something right or actually learned something from her, out of all things, it was like she’d turn into Shaina Twain and sing, “that don’t impress me much”.

So, because she screamed at me the entire time I drove with her, I didn’t do very well. I have never done well when people are screaming at me and I don’t think anyone can under those conditions. Constructive criticism was not in her vocabulary.

She even said to my face I was the worst driver she had ever driven with, which is harsh but true. I was a crappy driver. Whether that was due to her poor teaching, my inability to drive, the intense anxiety I had while driving, or a combination of all three, I’ll never know.

After my lessons with her, I would have preferred jumping into a pit of toxic waste than get into the driver’s side of a car. I was seriously traumatized and driving turned into an irrational phobia for me. A ball of untameable anxiety would sit in the middle of my gut and grow bigger and bigger when I was forced to drive.

I needed a good long therapy session.


Now, I’m a perfectly fine driver. I have never received a ticket, or been in a car accident. You may, or may not, be wondering, “do you forgive her?” I guess the answer to that question would be another question: Could you? Forgiveness if earned not given, and I don’t think she earned that from me.

I can understand why she was the way she was – a tiring and frustrating job of seeing different people make the same mistakes over and over. It takes a toll on you. But, it never gave her the right to treat her students the way she did. She must have known she was doing something wrong if she sent crying kids home everyday. Who, in their right mind, can sleep soundly at night? A psychopath, probably.

No matter who you are or what’s happening in your life, I preach kindness. The little things make the biggest difference, especially to kids; you can have the biggest impact on them and not realize it. Don’t be a Mrs. Weiner, who’s hell-bent on being the stereotypical grumpy, old lady. You’ll only be remembered for all the horrible things and nothing good. And in my situation, that’s exactly what happened.

~ ~ ~

I think everybody who starts driving for the first time always has multiple bad experiences, no matter if you get a good driving instructor or are surprisingly good at driving. And if you were one of those odd people who was good at driving right away, suck my a$$ (XD jk jk). If you have a funny story about driving for the time or even an experience that you want to share, let me know ‘cuz I really would like to hear some good ol’ “driver in training” stories!

goofy smile


Song of the day:

“Animal” by neon trees – cover by Chase Holfelder   <—This is amazing and you should seriously check it out!






The Newlyweds

couplesDavid, a blond haired old soul, and Teagan, short, feisty, and a little bit crazy, just married. They found a cramped one-bedroom house on the market, completely falling apart. They never asked why they were able to get it for so cheap. Their first thought was since it hadn’t been inhabited for years the real-estate agents just wanted it sold. And then there was also its terrible insect infestation. There seemed to be slimy maggots crawling everywhere on the wooden floors and flies caked the window sills.

It took them three days to realize there was a skeleton in their basement.

And now you know why the house was so cheap.


pretty skeleton

“I bet it was brutally murdered,” Teagan said with an odd fascination. She stared at the skeleton with wide, shining eyes. They found the body in a closet locked from the inside. Teagan bashed down the closet door, leaving sawdust in the air and scattered bits of wood everywhere. The body hung from the roof by its bound wrists and dangled from the ceiling, spinning in slow circles. Its head was slumped limply to the side. It truly was a skeleton. There was no flesh on the body and it seemed to be swimming in its clothes. The dress it wore looked to be from the ‘50’s – high neckline, a large skirt, and it was decorated in a yellow and orange flower pattern. Although, it was extremely faded and covered in dust and cobwebs. The dress was accompanied by pearls stung around the skeleton’s boney neck.

“It’s not an it, it’s a she!” David said, disgusted by the whole ordeal. He looked extremely pale, even though he was a nurse and saw more death than most.

“Hey, it could be a guy! Cross-dressing was probably big back then,” Teagan looked the skeleton up and down, smiled, and nodded her head slowly.

“It’s obviously a woman, without the indication of her clothes,” David said like a know-it-all.

“Were you checking her out?” Teagan made a face at David.

“Knock it off. This is serious,” David crossed his arms and the crease between his brow deepened. He shook his head. “I’m calling the police.”

“What? Why?”

“Are you seriously that stupid? Teag, we just found a dead body in our home. This isn’t something we should keep from the authorities.”

“Oh, common! Stop being such a goody-two-shoe. From the looks of her she has already been mourned a billion times over. If you think we are gonna make a difference by calling it in…”


“She needs to be put to rest, for Christ’s sake!” David cut Teagan off and his voice raised an octave. His face turned beet red. “She looks like she has suffered enough,” David grimaced, ripping his eyes away from the skeleton.

“But, David! This is so exciting! We can’t just turn ‘er in. She is apart of this house’s secrets and I am not about to give that up.”

David looked like he was about to explode. “I would rather be set on fire than listen to you anymore,” David turned away and headed upstairs.

“Oh, I can make that happen, baby,” Teagan said in a seductive voice.


“Why can’t you just be normal for once?” David moaned, while slamming his feet up the stairs.

“Then, why didn’t you marry a normal girl?” Teagan yelled.

“Because for some reason I am madly in love with you!” David yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Aww! Love you too, ‘hon,” Teagan yelled back.

David groaned loudly. “Love you too,” he said quietly but sincerely.

Teagan giggled childishly. “I win,” she whispered to herself. She turned back to the skeleton. “And as for you, beautiful, I think you would go perfect with the living room décor.”


“Seriously Teagan, put that thing away,” David said, looking up from the book he was reading and slammed it shut. He felt like he was talking to a child rather than his wife. He looked at the skeleton again and rubbed his hands down his face, sighing deeply. The skeleton sat in an armchair, its clothes removed as they were too big for the bones. Teagan crossed one of the skeleton’s legs over the other and placed a lit pipe in her unhinged jaw.

talented “We can’t just throw her out on the streets, David! She’s just a poor, innocent girl!” Teagan said dramatically. She rotated her wrist in a circular motion and placed the back of her hand on her forehead, like she was swooning. “She’ll freeze out there, god dammit! How can you be so cruel!” Teagan began fake crying, wailing into her hands like she was in a poorly written soap opera.

“Wow. Very moving performance.” David clapped slowly. “I hear Broadway is looking for a little orphan Annie. I think you’ll be perfect for the part,” David said in an extremely sarcastic tone but couldn’t help cracking a smile.

ryan and emma






“Oh, why thank you. I really gave my all for that one,” Teagan fanned herself with one hand and placed the other over her heart.

“Ugh, I so love to hate you,” David chuckled, picked up his book, and tried to read once more. He set it down again. “But really now, you are taking this way too far.”

“Taking things too far? Pshh…Now that definitely doesn’t sound like me,” Teagan said sarcastically.

dog slap“I swear to god, if that poor girl’s soul comes to haunt us because of what you’re doing right now, I will un-marry you so hard.”

“Honey, I think its called divorce now-a-days.”

“Well, I like un-marry better,” David raised his nose in the air and sniffed.

Teagan stuck her tongue out at David. The couple smiled at each other. For once, silence filled the small house. David went back to reading his book and Teagan went back to staring at the skeleton.

“Alright, that’s it!” Teagan said after a few moments.

“Hm?” David said, without looking up from his book.

“You have to go.”

David’s eyes widened and fear crossed his face. He sat forward in his chair. “Honey, I know we have our difficulties, most of the time, but we just got married! I mean, don’t make a decision you’ll regret.”

Teagan waved her hand in dismissal. “No, no, not you sweetie, you’re just fine where you are,” David sighed and leaned back into the chair for support. His heart was still beating hard against his chest. “I’m talking about the skeleton. I think she’s giving me the stink-eye,” Teagan gave the skeleton a quick side glace and shuddered.

grim reaper

“I told you not to mess around with the dead,” David said in a sing-song voice.

“I’ve had my fun, and I’ll admit I took it too far, per usual.”

“Those are the most beautiful words I have ever heard.”

“Shut up,” Teagan nodded to her husband and faked a smile. “Can you go make a coffin or somethin’? You’re a dude so you’re good with a hammer right?”


“Who am I kidding, I’m the male in this relationship. I’ll go do it. You just sit your pretty ass in that chair and be fabulous.”

“I will and I can,” David said and flipped his blond pony tail in the air.

“Love ‘ya.”


dean winking

Teagan grabbed her favorite pair of aviators, found a hammer and swung it over her shoulder. She wore a faded beige tank-top and baggy ripped jeans tucked into black combat boots. She lowered her sunglasses and winked at David as she left the house.

The door slammed shut.


With a sudden burst of motivation, David leapt from his chair and took the pipe from the skeleton’s jaw. He found an old blanket lying around and spread it on the ground. Carefully, he placed the skeleton on the blanket. Then, folded both edges over so it covered most of the skeleton.

David sighed. “I’m sorry for whatever happened to you,” he whispered, frowned, and gently rested his hand on the skeleton. “May you rest in peace.”


With a loud bang, a person kicked open the front door, a hockey mask covered their face, and they wielded a roaring chainsaw covered in red. David let out a high pitched scream and frantically skid himself backwards with his hands right into a corner. The menacing man came closer and closer and just when it looked to be the end of David, the chainsaw stopped.

Teagan took off the hockey mask, laughing hysterically.

“Oh my god! Your face!” Teagan doubled over with laughter.

“Jesus Christ!” David gasped. “I should have known it was you.”

“Well, yeah! I just wanted to show you this really old chainsaw I found in the shed. Oh, and we have a shed.”

“You wanted to show me a chainsaw by splitting me in half?” David said, alarmed and a bit annoyed.

hockey mask

“Well, I had to see if it worked, didn’t I?” Teagan smiled widely. “It’s got real power, too. Though, I don’t know how long its been sitting there.”

David sighed. “Well, did you at least make a coffin?”

“Tsh. Yeah? I may be crazy but I am not stupid,” Teagan made a face. She went outside again and carried, with both hands, a coffin made perfectly out of wood. “Hopefully, she doesn’t get any splinters,” she said as she sat the coffin down in the middle of the living room and let out a wheezing laugh. “I’m hilarious,” she said with a straight face.

David rolled his eyes.

The skeleton goes into the box and the box goes into the ground. Teagan dug the hole while David watched and provided encouragement. Once the last of the dirt is piled and packed down, David and Teagan stare at the grave for a few moments.

“I hope you find a nice skeleton boy, wherever you are, and make creepy skeleton babies.” Teagan said, nodding once.


“Teag, that was very nice.” David grabbed his wife into a side hug and gave her a big squeeze.

“I know.” She said, her voice muffled in David’s shirt. David released her from his bear-hug and threw an arm over her shoulder.

“So, now we have a skeleton in out backyard…?”


“Is that illegal?”

“I hope so.” Teagen winked and David laughed dryly. “Common, lets go inside and get wasted.”

“Is this how we consummate our marriage?” David wiggled his eyebrows.

“It better be. You know I’ve been holding out on you for some reason.”

David gives Teagan a look.

“Race you inside?”

“Three, two, one, GO!” Teagan said quickly.

“Hey, no fair!” David called after her, chasing her inside.

~ ~ ~

This is by far one of my most favourite short stories I have written. I spent a lot of time on it and was excited when I got positive feedback on it as well. Teagan is one of my favourite characters because she is crazy and unpredictable and weird. She is full of so much life and she was so so fun to create. I would definitely do another story centered around her and her husband David.

arin and suzy

Song of the day:

Call me when your sober -Evanescence


Blood of my Blood

She places the round cap on her head.

Its stereotypical.

Gold and brown

Two horns sprout from either side.

But, she closes her eyes

And is transported to a different time.

Of people who were feared by most

fierce vikings

And not afraid to die.

Of blood soaked soil.

Of Valhalla.

Of Pagans, warriors, and savages.

Of rule breakers.

Of Loki and Oden

Of Ravens.

Of fearlessness and determination,

To take and take and take.

She wondered what it must have been like

To fight a Viking and to be so afraid of these

Inhumane creatures

norse vikings

Ripe from the depths of hell

Who never tired.

Those blood thirsty beasts.

She wondered if Ragnar Lothbrok’s

Blood coursed through her veins

If his greatness, his victories, his reputation

Was in her too.

She opens her eyes,

loki and thor

Stares as her reflection

Of blond hair, blue eyes,

And snarls

Imagining dark blood covers her face,

Dripping down in glorious, thick drops.


Her face relaxes and she laughs as herself.

She shakes her head, and removes the cap.


She never forgets her true self.

~ ~ ~

Inspired by my roots, of Norwegian ancestry, this little ditty came about. I find its overall message to be praising those who do things differently and (although this is cliche) go against the grain. The vikings were fierce and extremely loyal to their people and family – blood meant more to them than anything. I find their culture endlessly fascinating and crave new knowledge about them; I am a history fanatic/geek so no surprises there on my end. If your into viking culture and their history and wanna learn more, I would suggest watching the TV show called Vikings, about the life of Ragnar Lothbrok (the fella I mentioned in my poem). It stars Travis Fimmel, Katheryn Winnick, and Clive Standen. Absolutely brilliant show and I can’t wait for this upcoming season!

Song of the day:

If I Had a Heart: Fever.Ray (AKA “Vikings” theme song).


A Lyrical Ballad

lyrcial ballads“Standing in the rain, with his head hung low” (Jukebox Hero, Foreigner),

“Like a hurt, lost and blinded fool”; he says (Losing my Religion, REM),

“You can have it all/my empire of dirt” (Hurt, Nine Inch Nails/Jonny Cash); 

“Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth” (Work Song, Hoizer). They

Say, “come on skinny love, just last the year” (Skinny Love, Birdy)!

But, “she is broken and won’t ask for help” (She Used to be Mine, Sara Bareilles).

And “I did my best, it wasn’t much/ I


Couldn’t feel so I tried to touch” (Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen). “For here/

I’m sitting on a tin can/Far across

The world” (Space Oddity, David Bowie) – then: “she’s underwater again”

“Somebody’s daughter, a friend” (Bird, Billie Marten), “I know things

Can get really rough / when you go it alone” (Simple Song, The Shins).

Remember, “everybody hurts sometimes” (Everybody Hurts, REM):

So “take a sad song and make it better” (Hey Jude, The Beatles).


~ ~ ~


This is a non-traditional sonnet. I came up with the idea when I took my passion I feel for music and I took songs, with similar tones or lines, to combine them to create something new and different. And I only took songs that I was familiar with and listen to on a daily basis- then this set of words has a more personal feel to me. I think this is one of the most creative “poems” I have written in my writing career.


Song of the day:

Luck – American Authors