Friday, March 30, 2012

Tiny bit of flash fiction for you guys

 Crazy Smart

The stench of death rose up like a cloud around him and he grinned, inhaling with a joy he hadn't felt in years. There was nothing quite so delightfully aromatic as the delectable coppery scent of blood pooling and clotting.

He wasn't sure exactly when he'd felt so alive and it gave him a thrill to know that his joy came from their deaths. His eyes moved lovingly over the shattered corpses at his feet and he sighed "Oh, Tommy, look at what we've done now."

In his mind his best friend grinned up at him from the belly of the corpse nearest him, his enigmatic smile stained with the blood and effluence seeping from the body he had been gnawing on.

In reality, Frank Gomez was standing in his kitchen facing a corner caught completely  in his dreams, thoroughly believing he was standing atop the bodies of those who had taken his son.

Ten years earlier Frank had been diagnosed with schizophrenia. But rather than live a sort of half life (where all he wanted was to die) because of the pills' side effects, Frank chose to remain untreated and suffer the vivid hallucinations and memory loss that accompanied a degenerative disease like that with which he was cursed.

Because of his hallucinations, Franks's ex had won full custody of their boy, Marcus. Frank had been punished for his choice to forego treatment and was only allowed to see his kid when his ex okayed it. Even then, he was to be supervised the whole time he visited the boy.

  It had pretty much broken him. When Samantha took Mark from him, he felt dead inside. The emotional trauma did something to his disease, it was as if a lit match had been tossed upon a bucket of gasoline. His delusions changed from spiders crawling the walls and following him everywhere he went to deepening in both vividness and feeling. It wasn't long before they morphed into ones in which demons had taken over his ex and stole his son. He vowed vengeance for his loss and he swore he would make the demons pay.

In his mind, his best friend Tom Sanders was there helping him. Sure this Tommy didn't exactly act like the one he knew and loved so well, but at least this one believed him about the demons. This Tommy agreed that his ex and her new boyfriend needed to die in order to save their souls. Thinking about it a little longer he decided that he very much preferred Mind Tommy to Flesh Tommy.

He stood in that corner for three hours until the episode broke and he could once again think normally. Once he was back in reality, he retched and ran for the toilet.

The things he had done to his ex had sickened and scared him. It didn't matter that he had only done them in his mind. He straightened after clearing his stomach and flushed the bowl clean of his lunch. After rinsing out his mouth with Scope he headed to what he termed his 'thinking' chair.

He kept a pad of paper and a pen by the chair to record anything he might need to know or remember when he was lucid. The notebook contained three sentences, it took him a moment to grasp their meaning.

"Saw her with him today. She took him in your bed. While you degenerated in the corner."

It was then he hatched his plan. He knew he'd have to kill her. Doing that would stop his disease and appease God so that he wouldn't have the 'bad times'. Besides if he killed her they'd only send him to an asylum where someone could care for him again. He was insane, he had ten years of medical files to back up his insanity defense.

A slow grin spread across his face, a grin that lit his eyes with a mania that would have scared him if he wasn't completely in his right mind. Yes sir, he would make sure things went his way, and no one would hold him responsible.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

I HATE editing. Blah!

While I know editing is essential and even crucial to having a good finished product I absolutely loathe it. Aside from not having a ton of time with the two kids and old house that needs some love, there's the fact I am an unrelenting demon when I edit. I will scrutinize a page until it starts crying. But to me, the best way to have a good book is to make sure it's as close to flawless as you can get it.

I'm working on an anthology right now with a dozen or so short stories from my past and present. The ones from the past need some serious clean up because they were written when I had just begun down the road of writing. The newer ones also need a bit of love and care and I'm ok with giving it to them.

My problem is when I spend fifteen minutes wondering if I couldn't find a better synonym for this word, or if I ought to include this sentence here or there. A bit obsessive perhaps but I know in the end the story/novel/novella will be better off for it, but Jeesh, I hate editing. 

Crescendo of Darkness

Today I turn my blog over to the amazingly talented and seriously awesome folks at H...