The Beholder

mirrorI recently moved to this neighborhood and I’ve been single for a while now. Don’t get me wrong; I love being single. However, there’s that sort of tingle, that electricity that comes with the chase. I’ve always chased the wrong shadow, it seems. So, here I am. In a new place, a new part of the city, a new life, and a not-so-new me. I’m doing some laundry and trying to wash my hands but wanted to tell this story while it’s still fresh in my memory.

I work in a sort of technical field. Basically, I fix expensive shit for people that didn’t read the manual or didn’t learn not to try and print porn on company printers that require a badge scan to tally your print requests. They’re all idiots and the dating pool at work is almost non-existent. Almost. I’m not new to this job but I’m new to this company and I’ve been scoping out the potential. I do the usual: see who wants to take a break at the same time and visit the smoker’s patio, see who is wearing a ring but doesn’t mind flirting in line at the cafeteria. You know… See who brings their kids in for the inevitable holiday round up for the top-bosses but still gives me the eye as they pass my cubicle, wife and kids in tow. I watch their heads turn as I pass the reflective glass they’re facing, watch their faces in the elevator mirrors as I board, hear their conversations halt as I remove my over-sized coat.

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Dating Strangers

wall-667156_640I’m waiting for the cops.  It’s been a terrible night.  It’s been a terrible month, really.  I need a distraction.  Hell, I need a new place to live, at this point.  I just want a different life now.

Here’s what has happened so far (I’ll have to update what happens in the future; it might not be pretty):

I used to live in the capitol city of my state but then had to move to a smaller city for a really good job.  Okay, I didn’t have to move but I did so that I could be closer to work.  Night driving is not exactly my forte.  I chose to move away.  I moved away from my friends, the entertainment, the night life, and most of all, the amount of single men that the largest city afforded.  I moved to a crappy city populated with old people, gang bangers, and married men.  Not exactly optimal for a single person.

As perpetually single people are wont to do, I posted an ad on Craig’s List.  You know, the standard “Skinny woman, mid-30’s, life revolves around work, no kids, looking for fun and potential outdoor adventures, thrill seeker, tries to live healthy but loves dark beer, seeking someone similar.  Pic for pic.”  You know the drill. Continue reading

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The Intruder

moonlight-through-trees-1616303_640I’m just sitting here, browsing the net, and I heard something in the other room.  I’m supposed to be alone in the house but maybe the noise was actually from outside, a mouse, a bird on the roof, something stuck in the attic (never happened before here but I’ve heard that it could).  I’m actually a little hesitant to type because it seems like every key-stroke is a little amplified.  I’m just gonna type this out.. Just in case.  As the night goes on, if nothing happens and I’m just being silly, I’ll delete it.  If this turns into anything decent, I’ll post it.

… I just heard a loud thumping.  Not like your stereotypical “thump”, per se.  This was like a drunk person stumbling into a piece of furniture or something and much further away than from whence I heard the original noise.

Okay, I’m going to try and stay focused here to explain what’s going on.  I’m smoking a cigarette and staring at the screen; ears on high alert for any other noises.  I heard what kind of sounded like a soft “pat” of a footfall that was ill placed.  I’m gonna’ grab my flashlight and the baseball bat I got for my 13th birthday and go make sure all of the doors are locked. Continue reading

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My name is Johanna and, if you’re reading this, I love you.

ceiling-fan-1333756_640I need some help.  I have these… dreams.  Only, they’re not dreams.  They’re more like nightmares but I see them in the dark.  The worst one happened last night and now I’m not sure what to do.  I’m terrified.  I’m terrified that, if I go to sleep, the demons will take my baby.  I don’t know if they’re really demons, I don’t know if it’s just all in my head, I don’t know if I’m going crazy, and I don’t know if I can take this any longer.  I’m writing this and putting this up here to see if anyone out there can help me.

My baby is seven months old and her name is Marguerit.  Since she’s nursing, I took her to bed with me, like I always do, and she nursed for a bit and fell asleep.  I tried sleeping but, as usual, I just lay there thinking about the day, the future, whether or not I needed to go stock up on more diapers for Marguerit, the usual stuff.  I was so tired.  The kind of tired where your eyes burn.

I felt a little cold air hit my arm that I had outside of the blanket holding Marguerit.  I immediately opened my eyes because there should be no cold air in the house.  The ceiling fan was running but that wasn’t where the air came from.  It came from the end of the bed or the door into the bedroom.  I was instantly awake as my bedroom door is directly across the living room from the front door.  I glanced into the darkness of the living room and could vaguely make out that the front door was closed.  There is a side door to the house but I know it was locked when I went to bed. Continue reading

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My name is Elisabeth

sundress-336590_640But that’s not what matters.  My name doesn’t matter because my name doesn’t mean anything.  “A rose by any other” and whatnot.  But I am not a rose.  No, no, I am definitely far from being a rose.  What am I?  Well, perhaps you can tell me because I’m just not quite sure.  I’m kind of hoping that maybe you might be able to help me.

Hm, now I’m thinking.  Do I really need help?  I mean, do I really need to know what I am?  Does anyone else?  Sometimes I think it would be good if people knew but, others… Sometimes I think it would be better if nobody knew.  Like, if I just went to my special place and nobody came back.  Sure, eventually someone may find my friends and I but, by then, even who I was wouldn’t matter because my name would be long gone.  I’d still be a mystery.  A file somewhere.  Old dust.

Maybe I should tell you about my friends.  That may be a good place to start.  That whole: guilty by association kind of thing.  Perhaps that would be the best way to introduce myself.  Maybe you’ll find some clues.  I don’t have many friends but the ones I do have are certainly not going anywhere.  I liked them a lot so I made sure that we were friends for life.  Sometimes I wonder if they like our little place but I picked it out just for them.  Well, actually, I picked it out for my very first friend and then just brought any new ones there to show it to them. Continue reading

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How the Zombie Apocalypse was a Door for My Broken Heart or What I Learned from the Walking Dead

This was shared with me by a friend that found something she wanted me to see (well, that’s sort of obvious).  What is actually kind of ironic is that the exact episode of which the author speaks truly resonated with me as well.  “Here’s not here”.  Those are not the words I’ve spoken to myself out loud in a bad terror episode.  Those are not the exact thoughts I’ve had when trying to discern my whereabouts in the morning.  However, “Here’s not here” is the EXACT same truth of which I am trying to convince myself to reduce the terror and paranoia.  The most eloquent I could come up with is “I accidentally woke up in the wrong place”.

While my issue has nothing to do with a bad break up, I feel this woman’s words, her meaning, and it resonates with me in a way that I understand.  I’d just like to say to Girl with the Octopus Heart: you are not alone in having the zombie apocalypse change your life.  It gave me a different perspective and that particular episode actually made me cry so I watched it twice in hopes that I could better learn why.  So much can be learned about ourselves if we just listen to those willing to share.

Aforementioned post:
Sobbing through an episode of AMC’s The Walking Dead, I watched as the man I used to know and love as Drew Carey’s cross-dressing brother deliver a monologue about PTSD. I know, you’re already wond…

Source: How the Zombie Apocalypse was a Door for My Broken Heart or What I Learned from the Walking Dead

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Kind of makes me tear up

I’ve been going through old backups and have found a lot of poetry that I’ve written.  I know what this one was about to me but I never gave it a name.  If you have one you think would be good, leave it in the comments and thanks for reading.

darkness-1232724_640Unnamed circa 2005
by Lacy Sereduk

She sits alone in her quiet room
Away from all the torment
She sits and broods and wastes away
With blood her only adornment

Silence is her only speech
That never ever flows
And when the time finally wastes away
She’ll be the only one who knows

So many tears down rapidly fall
To wash away the sins
With moonlights deathly call
The end of time begins Continue reading

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