part 2

 

NEW ORLEANS:

Morning rose and the wallowing sun divulged trace litters of a lady’s’ under things and a stringy rip of shredded denim. The evidence was fixed up in a concrete drainage ditch by a humid water line, with alien pale rocks that jutted out circling it like delegates from the moon and carefully placed on top the tatters to keep them from disturbance.

When the nutria scattered after having nibbled at coagulated blood spots dry and sweet to them like hard candy, they’d arrived. A set of shadows, which frowned and overlooked the mystery pile like mourners hovering over a peeled casket.

But where’s the body, one asked, yellow lettering dramatically over the heart of her windbreaker spelled out the words S-T-A-T-E and P-O-L-I-C-E. She shifted and bent her knees to crouch and lean over it thoughtfully, making the chunky coat swish and her arthritic knees click. She grimaced as if the evidence could spring up and shout BOO.

We don’t even know if this is hers, the other one says sardonically in his gloomy suit.

Detectives, a voice asks from behind, come have a look at this.

 

to be continued …

part 1

There’s a girl and a gust of wind and the house she left behind. A pale yellow house with mold in the corners and babies with fevers, and cigarette smoke in her nose and on the walls of her room, in her hair and in her bed sheets, and on the outside in the humid world beyond the broken door she crept out of at 2am.

They looked for her in the pastures and in the nooks, in the neck of the woods that smell green and lush and watery, and they looked up as if she might be in a tree staring down at them, but they never did find her.

 

to be continued …

‘There are doors’ a short story by Christine Delano & Samantha Lucero

A recent story one of my BFF’s and I wrote together. A publisher for an anthology passed on it (and my other ghost story, too. I finally found the email. which means I’ll be posting that one up eventually, too.) it’s written in two perspectives, Adelina and Vera, two single moms (and characters we used to role-play on journals in a World of Darkness setting, I TOLD YOU I WAS A NERD.) both first person. It’s about 15k words, so it’s kind of a commitment. It was partly inspired by a weird place in the hills of NJ.

And yes, it’s horror. Do you even know me?

Two single moms leave their lives behind
and start over, but … 

Continue reading “‘There are doors’ a short story by Christine Delano & Samantha Lucero”

‘Far From Any Road’ – Collaboration II – S.K. Nicholas & Samantha Lucero

Sudden Denouement Collective

When I looked into your eyes that time not long after we first met, I told myself that if I was given the chance, I would go ahead and do it. And such a thing would really impress you and make you want me even though I was just a zero.

Because the black light has been here since the beginning.

When I first discovered what you were in the early hours of the morning while drunk and on the brink, you reached inside of me and brought me back. Sounds melodramatic, I know, but before I found you it was as if I were the only one and that being a zero was all I was good for.

And it’s been burning a hole for so long.

When I swallowed what you had to say, I found a truth that had been denied me my entire life by those…

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i somehow forgot to mention.

some time ago, i submitted a horror story for an upcoming halloween anthology taking place in salem. the story’s called ‘let’s kill her‘ and they just accepted it to be published in the book. more details to come. i’ve put an excerpt of it here before, i just don’t want to dig for it. no need to read any further if you’ve already read it before, it’s the same excerpt. also, please tell me to commit to sleeping more.

i am still working on a novel. 30k isn’t a bad word count for how little time i have to truly get into the mood and let go, and just write and write. it’s a slow process. i am waiting to get my rejections from the reviews i’ve submitted to before publishing my poetry book. it’s nothing that anybody hasn’t read on my blog or on sudden denouement  already, perhaps only a few unpublished pieces.

and isn’t it the biggest curse of the creative to find ourselves in stagnate ruts and have no idea how we got there? the stars align for me sometimes, or maybe it’s all ritualistic for me to feel driven. although, i am interrupted often by screaming, or MAMA, MAMA, which doesn’t help my already delicate concentration♡ so much to do, so little time. lately, it seems anything can put me in quicksand. the reason i was so disappointed in the movie a quiet passion, was not only because it royally sucked (my cousin rachel was much, MUCH better, yet strangely has a lower rating? i have a thing for period pieces.)  but because i can relate to the isolation that emily dickinson gladly, and at times perhaps not so gladly, placed herself in. it became a bad habit of mine to isolate myself when i was staying in florida. i’ve moved away from that awful place of course since february, having too much of my genes be comforted by the cold to ever stay where i was so lost in the constant heat. even new orleans isn’t as bad. i could sip absinthe happily in the pirates alley all day and get beignets when my stomach went sour, but i couldn’t wait to breathe somewhere that wasn’t florida. the habit has carried over to where i live now, somewhere that makes some semblance of sense,  but i’m slowly working on it. the only place i really go is the gym, and everyone leaves you alone there. best place ever. i guess i’m a model introvert who can speak to people easily, but prefers peace. not that i get any with twins. especially now that one of them talks. it’s so fucking cute.

anyway, i was getting at admitting that i am nervous as fuck to go to this book release event that’s coming up. the other book i’m in, well, that my poem is in, has a release event. other poets are reading their work live. i already told them i won’t be doing that, but will be very, very happily attending. by happily i mean anxiously, because it’s going to be quite a crowd. so back to the excerpt.

‘let’s kill her’ is a short story about a murder that takes place halloween morning, and is avenged on halloween night.

Continue reading “i somehow forgot to mention.”

‘ghost stories’ anthology

i am working on two stories for this anthology, actually. one is a collaboration, and one is by only me. i’m in the editing process of this one, having completed it some weeks ago. i’ll be finishing up editing it by tonight (i hope) and sending it in. we’ll see what happens; i’ll find out in august or september.

meanwhile, i’ve been working on my own full-length novel (top secret) and gathering content for my poem book. and feeling somewhat out-of-body.

here’s an excerpt of one of the ghost story’s i’m submitting to a small publication, it’s called “those nocturnal hours

Continue reading “‘ghost stories’ anthology”

a virgo unsurprisingly complaining, a link to ‘across lots’ & an excerpt from “let’s kill her.”

so my life has been insane. how fitting, since i am too. or at least that’s what they say.
has been? is. currently and always. in some ways and in many.
i have an urge to pour out an intensely personal blog post, but i’m too exhausted or afraid. i live far too much in my own mind, and although typing makes it easier to get it all out, lately it’s hard for me to talk about anything.
but hey, remember how i’ve mentioned that i was working on another short horror story for an indie anthology? finished and submitted. we’ll see what happens.
speaking of anthologies, i’m going to be receiving my physical copy of “the mountain pass”, the other indie anthology i wrote ‘across lots’ for sometime soon. it’s available, along with the sample, on the publishers website and on amazon kindle. my story is actually the first one in the book, so you can read most of it in the sample on their website, but if you want to read the entire thing (my story, not the whole book), go to the sample on amazon. 😉 there’s a little bit of the second story in there as well from another writer. i can’t wait to read all the other stories in it.
i’ll be working on my own novel, which i will painstakingly attempt to publish at a bigger house, and self-publishing my poetry book onward. any poem i write for the book will be put on my blog or at sudden denouement anyway. the book isn’t intended to be all original work.
maybe i’ll put together a few other stories for indie places if i have time.
i still need to smash the remaining entries of the horseman into one post… soon.
without further ado, here’s an excerpt of what i’ve sent to an anthology call asking for stories taking place on halloween, in the same city (salem) in different decades. i chose 1973. a few years after the manson murders.

let’s kill her

Continue reading “a virgo unsurprisingly complaining, a link to ‘across lots’ & an excerpt from “let’s kill her.””

currently working on:

  • self-publishing my poetry book; dancing around with different designs, sparring with words that want to, need to be said, all tangled up with an impatience to have it mystically accomplished in under an (unrealistic) hour. this is largely for my daughters. as i’ve mentioned, it’s an epitaph in the event that my medical condition goes south quicker than what is expected. it isn’t expected to, but in my life the unexpected has been in the front lines. my life’s an infantry.
  • another horror short story for an indie publishing company. (i’ll post an excerpt eventually.)
  • considering posting the rest of ‘the horseman’ as one large post rather than continuing the ‘series’ style of post.
  • more poems, of course.
  • believing in something other than fatigue & pain.

i’ve been so isolated for a very, very long time that i sometimes stumble on my words in public and for this end up avoiding speaking. i deliberately go in public, but avoid people, because i love being outside. i live in a very interesting area with access to a lot of history and oddities; if you haven’t noticed, i’m into that.

i have been inwardly and outwardly cringing for so long though, and for so many reasons that have piled on my shoulders, making me feel like atlas, that i’m finding it difficult to finally relax now that i can and the world’s off my watch. i’ve had burdens and depression, anxiety, too long to just forget them and think they’re like smoke, just dissipating. i know better than that. the mind leaves leaves marks on itself, like falling asleep on a crease of your pillow. the dent takes time to soften.

i am true introvert and INFJ. this reminds me that i need to refresh my studies of carl jung. he had the same personality type as me, supposedly, and i fell in love with his work many years ago. introversion has nothing to do with being shy. it has to do with your reaction to stimulation. i am very easily overstimulated by loud noise, bright lights, too many people (or is that just my migraines?) — too much to focus on. i want to absorb things too readily. i think it’s because i like to pay close attention to things, one at a time, and end up doing so all at once. i’ve also read that introverts brains tend to pick up on all stimulation as animate (something to pay attention to.) rather than inanimate (looked over.), and therefore they hardly are letting their brain rest. my brain/mind seems to never rest. i wasn’t always like this.

not to mention i have two beautiful demons who need my energy as well.

speak of the devil …

the western ‘across lots’ will be published this month

so the excerpt of the rough draft of what i was working on, which i mentioned here 800 years ago, will be published in the anthology i submitted it for next month. it’s quite violent. i didn’t think they’d accept it. i’ll post more about it when the book is printed.

they also asked for a ‘headshot’ and a bio. naturally, i’m insane and thought about all the scenarios of people knowing what i look like, but then i remembered i’m a viking and i don’t give a fuck. but, i have no pictures of me unless they look like this:

lol.PNG

which is a more accurate portrayal of me; note the child’s hand holding a giraffe. his name is wilson.

but, i decided to attempt a nicer photo with things that weren’t pajamas on, and also bigger, nerdier glasses. just in case.

so this is what i got.the real one.JPG

 

so now you know what i look like. but if you ever see me, i’m dangerous. don’t approach. 🙂

a tale of 2 puppets

here’s an ancient short story of my yesteryears written in one of my long, wine-soaked weeks passed. i can’t even remember which time period it was put together. before the military? during?  i recently submitted it for a small anthology. it was consequently rejected (like most of my stuff.) but i can see why, and you will too. the language is too phantasmagoric and cluttered to be in a book of compiled stories likely meant to be a mild read instead of a WTF.  originally, the marionette show was in san francisco, and i only adapted it to be in new orleans. that was pretty much my only edit. i just like showing the writing of my past, to me, to anyone. it’s like a glimpse of where my mind was back then. i know exactly who i wrote the story about… and it’s still my secret to the grave.

i’m also still on the fence about whether or not to submit the other short story that i’ve written. the one that i previously posted an excerpt of about a woman who loses everything on a mountain pass. i’d rather have it as a stand alone rather than incorporated in someone else’s vision. although, they’d likely reject it. it’s a bit more quentin tarantino than i’m sure they’re used to. we’ll see.

and, since i’ll have more time in the coming months and perhaps less of this weighty writers block, i can finish the few novels i’ve got chapters and chapters for with no end yet, but planned. i love writing poems and shorts, but a finished novel is my ultimate goal.

THE OLDE PUPPET SHOW

Continue reading “a tale of 2 puppets”