Things About Things

A place to store stories, images and whatever else comes to mind

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Life of A: Writer --- Knock Knock

Life of A: Writer — Knock Knock

The rain comes down in droves, thick sheets, running icy claws down my back. It holds me in my place as if my feet have been frozen to the ground, melded, and it’s all I can do to breathe.

“Look, I know you were—are—a little skeptical about the place, but trust me when I tell you it’s all gonna’ work out.”

“I know,” I say. There’s nobody in a ten foot radius, but I can see him… Kam……

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Life of A: Writer --- Tick

Life of A: Writer — Tick

March 13 – Daylight

I’ve just arrived at the institution. Two men with the strongest of arms hold me as if I am some criminal and then pass me over to a pair of doctors in purple shrubs. I have just come from the police station where I’ve been in holding for I couldn’t say how long. I lost track after passing out from exhaustion. When I awoke, I was told by the authorities that I was being…

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Life of A: Writer --- Sob

Life of A: Writer — Sob

My body refuses to react while my mind has already taken fifteen laps around the property. Blood in wineglasses are raised for the one they call Mother. A dead body inches from my face. A sheet that has been covering my very eyes from the moment my family and I stepped foot into this town being pulled away and I am slipped into the place of nightmares. I have to admit, I never saw this…

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Life of A: Writer --- Grumble

Life of A: Writer — Grumble

I see wrinkles I never imagined I would experience in my teen years. I see bags that I never thought wouldn’t be in my hands. Yet, I don’t see something that I always imagined I would have and that is Kam at my side. His infidelity flashes each time I blink or close my eyes to sleep. His arms wrapping around her like some long lost lover. I know what it felt like, his hands around her. The…

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Life of A: Writer --- Gasp

Life of A: Writer — Gasp

It’s as if their voices are mumbles, droning in a consecutive line of white noise. When I was still living with my parents, before I had moved to Milan to hit some modelling gigs, I struggled with sleeping many hours at a time. Whether it was something like my father’s motorcycle-like snoring or just the gurgle from the water cooler, any little noise woke me up–a light sleeper at its…

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Life of A: Writer --- Shriek

Life of A: Writer — Shriek

Twelve hours later I stand on the sidewalk looking up at Olive Specter’s home. I won’t say I’m shocked. There was a little piece of doubt inside of me that told me coming here wouldn’t be some big hole in the middle of the town that everybody skimmed over each time they passed by. But hearing Olive’s son talk about my family being some outsider as they put it forced me to come and see…

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Life of A: Writer --- Grumble

Life of A: Writer — Grumble

I see wrinkles I never imagined I would experience in my teen years. I see bags that I never thought wouldn’t be in my hands. Yet, I don’t see something that I always imagined I would have and that is Kam at my side. His infidelity flashes each time I blink or close my eyes to sleep. His arms wrapping around her like some long lost lover. I know what it felt like, his hands around her. The…

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Life of A: Writer --- Jingle

Life of A: Writer — Jingle

Snowflake day is upon us many weeks later. The day where families come together, friends drink and be merry and children scream with excitement because the big man somehow managed to break into our house without anybody noticing. I’ll admit, even when I was young, it baffled me that nobody, not even my parents, was able to catch Santa redhanded. Yet here I am so many years later with…

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Life of A: Writer --- Pop

Life of A: Writer — Pop

It’s been a quiet week since the investigation opened up about the murder. John Doe. His name was John Doe. That’s it. No witnesses, no evidence. Nothing. Everything was cleaned up without a single speck to be admired. It seems surreal. Death in the little quiet town I have moved into. I should be scared. I mean, I man died blocks from where my family and I live. Yet, there is this part of…

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Life of A: Writer --- Gasp

Life of A: Writer — Gasp

It’s as if their voices are mumbles, droning in a consecutive line of white noise. When I was still living with my parents, before I had moved to Milan to hit some modelling gigs, I struggled with sleeping many hours at a time. Whether it was something like my father’s motorcycle-like snoring or just the gurgle from the water cooler, any little noise woke me up–a light sleeper at its…

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Life of A: Writer --- Thwack

Life of A: Writer — Thwack

Bubbles form around me in thick globs, the scent of pomegranate encasing the bathroom like a lover’s embrace, warm, romantic even with the few candles I’ve lit on the surface of the tub. I can’t tell if it is because for once maybe my anxiety medication may be kicking in (doubtful seeing as I’ve been on it for years and it’s always seemed like it hasn’t done a damned thing so why start…

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Life of A: Writer --- Pilot

Life of A: Writer — Pilot

Cold. Unsettling. There’s not much else I can say when the name Midnight Hollow comes to mind. Just speaking of it seems as repulsive as the place itself. Like somebody saying their first four-letter swear or the name Voldemort. The structures are easily sixteenth century—gothic. Beautiful, surely. But it’s like an illusion. The houses may look like they are hundreds of years old when in reality…

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Divine Deception Season 4 Deleted Scenes

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“Mercy” Deleted Scenes

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Divine Deception --- Mercy --- Series Finale

Divine Deception — Mercy — Series Finale

For those who believe that life ends when one’s death is met, resurrection is more of a fairytale than a reality. Death is consequential, a tally of all the good things and how much bad was delivered while on the earth’s ground. But for the few who believe otherwise, death is not an ending, but rather a new beginning. I never believed in anything after life. I thought it would just end in an…

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“Afterlife” & “Hellfire” Deleted Scenes

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Divine Deception --- Hellfire

Divine Deception — Hellfire

Some say that our lives are defined by what we desire to do, when we do it and how. But maybe it is not our wants that define us per se, but how far we are willing to go to make them reality. In their purest forms, our desires have the ability to render our lives into pits of hell with the power of retaliation furthering the cycle of violence. Demons are able to claw into our lives with the…

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