Month: July 2020

I’ve become fond of writing dream sequences. Dreams the characters experience can heighten the story by adding extra layers of humor, suspense, surprise and horror. Dreams can also provide a creative shift in the main story, just like the dreams and nightmares we experience in our real lives. The following scene is a dream sequence my character Marla has in the forthcoming ‘Roach Cobbler’. I’m still in the revision and editing process so this may or may not be the final version. Regardless, I hope you enjoy. 

Marla stood there watching the door after Jim was gone. He’s gone, just like that. Will he come back? Will he have to come back? Oh God I hope not, but he said he’d follow up. Just then, Marla realized how tired she was. She wanted to look around her apartment, mainly because something felt different about it. There was that calmness she felt again. Am I imagining this? Something felt finished, final, like maybe the tall white stranger Jim had actually gotten rid of them. But she didn’t want to feel too good yet. The bastards are still here, hiding for just a little while until this treatment wears off. I can’t take it I still have to leave, not just spend the night with Denny. I have no money, but have to find a way to leave here!

She went into her bedroom and looked at the bed. Her clothes were on top of it, the clothes she was taking to Denny’s. I’m so tired. I have to get a nap before I go. She went to the bed, pushed her clothes over and sat down on the side of the bed. She put her phone on the nightstand and looked at it; no new calls or messages. She kicked off her shoes, and then swung her legs up to the bed. It felt so good to her. I’ll just close my eyes a few minutes. She looked up at the ceiling first. They weren’t there. She closed her eyes.

***

Her eyes were still closed, but she felt someone sit down on the bed which caused her body to sink slightly. She tried to open her eyes, but they wouldn’t open. Wait! Open your eyes. I can’t! Marla kept trying, but they wouldn’t open. Am I that tired?

“I’m sorry,” his voice said.

Who is that? Try to open your eyes again. Marla was getting scared.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again. “I couldn’t help you.”

“Who are you?” she said.

“Don’t you know?”

“I can’t open my eyes.”

“Try harder.”

“I am.”

She was trying with all her strength to pry her eyes open, but suddenly they opened with no further resistance.

“Can you see me?” he said.

Her vision was fine. It was Jim, the exterminator, sitting on the bed right next to her.

“I thought you left,” she said.

He gave her an odd stare, and then got up, turned around and started walking toward the bedroom door.

Why is he leaving?

She looked up at the ceiling and gasped. The roaches were back up there, gathering around the light fixture; it was more of them and they were bigger. “Oh my God!”

She rose from the bed with her eyes glued to the ceiling. More roaches ran toward the light fixture, starting to cover it like a swarm. Her eyes bucked and her mouth flew open. She wanted to scream, but couldn’t. They started falling from the ceiling, heading straight for her open mouth. She was able to holler that time and jumped up, running from the bedroom, slapping her head violently.

“Jim, Jim help me!”

She ran into the kitchen, stopping in her tracks. Nobody was there. She yelled out, “Jim where are you?!”

There was no sound, not from a human. She could hear them and their legs crawling, but she couldn’t see them. The sound was terrifying and getting louder. Where are those bitches?! She could hear them in the walls and their thousands of legs disrespecting her apartment and turning it into their own.

“Jim help me!” she hollered.

She looked around the kitchen. The sound of their legs crawling was becoming deafening, and then she started to smell them. The stench was nauseating. She looked down at the cabinets below the sink, and then the cabinets above. She walked toward them, knowing that if she opened one of them what she’d find. But she had to do it. She moved up closer to the cabinets above the sink. Open the one on the left. She reached for it, gripping the knob. They in there. If you open it they’ll kill you. It will be over. I want it to be over!

“Jim where are you?!”

“Don’t open it Marla!”

She turned around quickly, hearing his voice, but he wasn’t there. She was still gripping the knob on the cabinet.

“Jim where are you why can’t I see you?!”

“Don’t open it Marla the roaches will kill you!”

She turned back to the cabinet, feeling more compelled to open it, and then heard her phone vibrating.

“Jim is that you calling me?”

She didn’t hear him say anything else.

“Jim are you here anywhere?!”

There was no other sound, but the sound of them she heard in the walls. Open it and get it over with. Let them take you they want you.

Her phone was still vibrating, getting louder. She opened the cabinet, ready to scream, but she didn’t. Nothing was there, no roaches, nothing but her vibrating phone, lying on the empty shelf. No roaches, oh God, no roaches! She reached inside the cabinet and picked up her phone. “Jim is that you?!”

“What?” he said, but it wasn’t Jim’s voice.

“Jim?!”

“It’s Denny.”

“Denny?!”

“Aunt Marla are you okay?”

“Wait,” she said, looking around. She was in bed, holding the phone up to her ear. She glanced at the nightstand briefly. It was a dream.

“Aunt Marla?”

“I….I was dreaming.”

“Dreaming? I woke you?”

“I thought I was napping.”

“Sorry,” Denny said.

“No it’s okay,” Marla said. “I’m so glad it was a dream.”

“What happened?”

“Roaches.”

Denny paused, “In the dream?”

“Never mind.”

“Hey, just wanted to know if you want me to pick you up tonight.”

Marla was slow to answer her nephew.

“Aunt Marla, you there?”

One of my favorite scenes from this short story. A concerned mother comes into the police station and speaks to Detective Kevin Abruzzo, Lisa’s ex. The mother confesses that she has been abused by her unstable daughter.

Detective Kevin Abruzzo was running late. He jumped up from his desk, strapped on his weapon and was about to leave, until the phone rang on his desk, the ancient annoying beeping sound heard in most police stations. It was the desk sergeant downstairs. Shit! Kevin looked down at his cell phone. Lisa texted him five minutes ago: -hi kev be at fat cat in 10 🙂

Kevin had to meet her. He was surprised that she even agreed. He couldn’t be held up. He grabbed the phone, knowing he had to do his job. Kevin was day 14 as a detective.

“Abruzzo,” he said, and listened as the sergeant filled him in. Kevin nodded reluctantly. “Send her up.”

He sat back down at his desk, disappointed. He texted Lisa quickly: -got held up be there shortly sorry-

He waited, looking for a reply back quickly, but didn’t get one. It worried him. He was praying he had a chance to fix things with Lisa, but was willing to accept it may never happen. Damage done. He looked around and realized he was the only detective on the floor. They were all out on calls, his colleagues, the more senior detectives. The lieutenant went home with an upset stomach. Kevin turned around and noticed a woman approaching his desk. She was older, moving slowly. He could see a terrible bruise on her face. He felt bad for her. She managed to smile at him even through her painful looking face. His heart went out to her. He got up and held out the chair at his desk for her.

“Thank you,” she said. Her voice sounded tired and her swollen lips made it look difficult for her to speak. He went back around and sat down behind the desk. They looked at each other.

“Sorry,” she said. “It hurts when I talk.”

“I’m sure,” Kevin said, glancing quickly down at his phone. Lisa still hadn’t replied to his last text. She’s mad. I can’t win.

“I’m Detective Abruzzo,” he said. “Have you been looked at?”

“I went to Weiss,” she said. “I’ll be okay….think it looks worse.”

“What happened?” Kevin said.

She hesitated, “I’m…I’m Virginia Rogers, my….my daughter did this.”

“I’m very sorry Mrs. Rogers.”

“Miss,” she said. “I kept his name, but I’m divorced. I may be old but you can call me Ginny.”

“Sure,” Kevin said.

Virginia looked around. “You’re alone. It seems quiet for a police station.”

“Right now,” Kevin said. “The other detectives are out on calls.”

“You’re very young,” she said. “Are you new?”

Is it that obvious?

“Young?” Kevin said. “I’m forty-two. Been a cop awhile, was just promoted to detective.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re still young,” Virginia said. “My daughter is thirty-eight. I had hopes she’d find a young man like you. She almost did.”

They had a moment of silence. Virginia looked away from him like she was embarrassed.

“Are you going to press charges?” Kevin said. “That’s an obvious assault.”

Virginia’s eyes bucked, “Oh no! She needs help….I don’t know where else to go.”

“You can press charges,” Kevin said.

“She can’t be locked up…she’s emotionally unstable.”

“Mrs, I mean Ginny, can you tell me what happened?”

She cut her eyes to the floor briefly, and then looked back up.

“Can you tell me?” Kevin said. “I know it’s difficult. Just take your time.”

“Are you going to lock her up?”

“I can’t do anything if you don’t press charges.”

“I can’t,” Virginia said.

“Okay,” Kevin said. “Just tell me why you came here. What would you like me to do?”

“It was a gun, a rifle,” Virginia said.

“Rifle?”

“Yes, a rifle….it was big.”

“She hit you with it,” Kevin said.

Her eyes became glassy. “The back of it….I think. I thought she was going to shoot me.”

“Has she been abusing you?”

“No, oh no please…this has never happened before.”

“Is the rifle hers?”

“It’s her father’s.”

“Does she own a firearm of any kind?”

“No, never.”

“Did her father give her the rifle?”

“No!” Virginia said. “She took it from him.”

Kevin became worried. “Is her father okay?”

“He’s fine. I didn’t know any of it until he called me. He said they’d gone deer hunting down in the county…he said it was missing. She’d been staying with him and never told me. She padlocked her door, I broke the lock and found the rifle.”

“So she stole his rifle?”

“Yes. She was so angry with me for breaking into her room…she…she hit me with it.”

Virginia could no longer fight the tears. She broke down crying. Kevin didn’t know what to do. He grabbed a tissue box on his desk and held it out to her. She didn’t take any. Kevin put the box down in front of her.

“Mrs…..Ginny. I’m very sorry all this happened.”

She finally grabbed some tissue and started wiping her eyes, wincing at the pain it caused. Kevin felt a vibration on his phone, but ignored it, instead he grabbed a note pad and pen from his desk.

“What is your daughter’s name?”

Virginia cleared her throat. “Karrie, with a K, Rogers.”

Kevin jotted it down. “What do you think is going on with your daughter?”

“She’s losing her mind,” Virginia said.

“She’s obviously a threat after what she did to you.”

“I never thought,” Virginia said. “But it’s my fault. I never taught her how to deal with men. I never really knew myself.”

“Is a man involved?” Kevin said. “Is there someone we should contact?”

“I don’t know anything,” Virginia said. “She never got over a break up from five years ago with Brand.”

“Brand?”

“Yes that’s his name. She thought he was going to marry her, but he broke up with her. She became very depressed, even started therapy, but she hasn’t been going to her doctor.”

Kevin jotted down more notes. “Ginny, is she still in contact with Brand?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You say he broke up with her five years ago?”

“Five years ago this month,” Virginia said.

“After she hit you, where did she go?”

“I don’t know. She stormed out of the house.”

“Did she take the rifle with her?”

“Yes,” Virginia said. “She did.”

This first chapter and scene sets the stage of the main plot of this relatively short story. Jonas tries to warn Charlene about the true intentions of her friend and mentor Miss Claire, but Charlene does not agree, feeling that Jonas is envious of her closeness with the woman. The scene ends with them basically agreeing to disagree with Charlene proceeding on to meet her mentor for a nice afternoon ladies’ lunch in the city.

“You need to stay away from those old ladies,” Jonas said, throwing the covers halfway over his nude body. He and Charlene had had relations early that morning, like always, and then lay there and talk afterwards. It was how they knew they were destined to be together. It was 9:37am. Charlene threw the covers over her face quickly and giggled. Jonas looked at her and laughed too, but then Charlene heard the tone of his voice become serious.

“Really,” he said. “Leave them old hags alone Charlene.”

He watched her until her face came out from where she hid it. Her dark brown face was beautiful without make-up. He never knew why she wore so much, especially the kind that made her complexion appear lighter than it was. But he did notice she was wearing less make-up as their time together expanded. They had been together almost two years, 22 months exactly. It was a rough patch at first, but they found their groove.

Jonas sat up further in bed and so did she. She made sure the covers wouldn’t reveal her small breasts.

“Are you serious?” she said.

“I sure am.”

“You don’t like her?”

“You know that,” Jonas said. “I never liked her….and she don’t like me, though she pretends to. I don’t trust her, she’s phony.”

He saw a disappointed look take over Charlene’s face and he felt bad, but he loved her and couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Look,” he said. “I tried, you know I did, but I just don’t like that lady. I don’t think she means you any good.”

They were silent. He continued to watch her. He knew she was taking it all in. She stared straight ahead at their worn dresser, the one they brought into his apartment that someone had thrown out in the alley.

“I don’t understand your hatred for her. I really don’t.”

“I wouldn’t call it hatred.”

“Well what do you call it?”

Jonas rose up even further in bed, resting his back against the headboard. She knew he was thinking, trying to get his thoughts together so she rose up as well, resting her back against the headboard too, folding her arms across her chest and covers. If there was one thing she knew about Jonas Evans, it was his intelligence; he wasn’t formally educated, but he was in tune with the human condition. He had never told her anything that didn’t make sense except this. She listened to his opinion because she loved him and respected him, but this time she disagreed with him wholly. He didn’t understand her relationship with Miss Claire, and maybe was little jealous. Miss Claire warned her once that he might be jealous.

She saw him still trying to get his thoughts together; she also knew the subject of Miss Claire exhausted him. He was so good looking to her, but not in the pretty sense. Jonas was a broad shouldered, burly man with kinky hair and milky brown skin. The scar that ran from his left cheekbone to the corner of his lips never bothered her, though he was slightly insecure about it. He got it fighting in a bar in 2002, blamed for hitting on a woman he didn’t even see. Jonas got cut, but the other man was beaten to a near pulp. Jonas did time. The scar made him tough to her, but scar or no scar, Jonas was tough, but he could also be very gentle.

“How many ways can I say she means you no real good?”

“Jonas, I told you about Miss Claire…how she helped me, gave me a place to stay when I was on my ass. It was her place or a shelter. She helped me during the worst times of my life. She fed me, had patience with me until I found a job…until I found you. I can’t just forget that.”

“How about thanks and just move on?” Jonas said.

She turned to him, raised her hand to his face and touched it softly, tracing his scar tenderly with her index finger. He smiled, it tickled a little.

“Baby, it’s just a ladies lunch. Me, Miss Claire and Miss Dottie. I’m coming back home to you.”

Jonas grabbed her, pulling her into him. “I don’t want that old lady to hurt you. She’s not your mother.”

“No she’s not,” Charlene said. “Maybe not by blood, but she’s been more like a mother to me than that woman in Missouri.”

“Are you ever going to speak to her again?” Jonas said.

“Never Jonas.”

They were silent for about a minute.

“So?” Charlene said.

“What?”

“Where does this leave us?”

“Right where we were,” Jonas said. “Miss Claire can’t fuck with this!”

Charlene laughed. “You okay with me telling her?”

“About the baby?”

“Yes.”

“She’s going to get all religious on you.”

“Jonas it’s all good. Miss Claire is just a product of her time.”

Jonas kissed her on the forehead. “Have a nice lunch baby. I’ll be here for you when you get back.”

As a writer, I try not to make it all about me in every blog post, but I’m so busy creating stories, revising, editing and releasing new work, and I still have my day job too, thankfully. I’m actually writing this at a bus stop on North Broadway while I wait for the bus.

I have no time to engage on social media, but I do have this blog and want to keep it active. Right now I’m too busy to come up with engaging blog posts so I’ve decided to continue posting Scenes; for the whole month of July, if I can keep to schedule. I posted a scene awhile back, one of my favorites from Girl’s Night: Spoon Fed2 which I’m hopeful will be released very soon. Here’s another scene that I favor from there and I hope you enjoy it too.

Girl’s Night: Spoon Fed2

Saturday morning, 10:13am. Tatum had run errands early, the hospital, Warren’s office and the bank. She wanted to put him in the ground as quickly as possible to begin her life as a well positioned widow. She was all smiles thinking about it, until she walked back into the apartment and saw that Corey was still asleep, lying on the sofa, snoring loudly with all of his clothes on, only his red All Stars were on the floor beside him. The TV was on, loud, volume all the way up. Some incredibly loud cartoon was on.

“Corey, Corey get the hell up!”

He barely moved. She walked closer to him, behind the sofa and raised her voice, “Shit Corey wake up and turn the fucking TV down!”

He made a moaning sound and changed positions. Fuck! She came around the sofa to the coffee table in front of him. The table was littered with beer cans, a half bottle of Jim Beam, a half eaten meatball sandwich from Subway, donut holes, a bottle of pills and a half rolled joint. Tatum started looking for the TV remote, finding it on the floor by his All Stars. Shit! She picked it up immediately and turned the volume all the way down. She slapped his legs hard, knocking them halfway off the couch. It woke him up. She sat down.

“What the fuck?!” he said, raising his head from the plush sofa pillow that was stained with his slobber.

“You asshole!” Tatum said.

“Hey, what?” he said, lowering his head back down, but turning to lay on his back while throwing his legs in her lap.

“You trashed this place….I hate you!”

“This place is soon to be yours,” he said.

“Corey you’re not taking this seriously I have a lot to do, funeral arrangements….I want him buried quickly and it’s not easy.”

“Cream his ass!” Corey said, removing his legs from her lap and sitting up. He leaned forward, over the coffee table, grabbed the half rolled joint and a lighter.

“You’re not smoking in here!”

“Fuck you!” he said, with the joint already between his lips, lighter in hand ready to light up. “Stop treating me like a kid…you need to take a puff, a pill and a swig of JB.”

“Fuck you!” Tatum said. “You’re no help…you never were!”

“Bitch all I been doing to help you?! I helped you kill his ass remember?! You fucking whore!”

She stared at him coldly, and then her expression softened. “Yes, you did help me Corey.”

“Exactly bitch! Check yourself,” he said, lit up and took a slow drag.

“I’m nervous Corey.”

“Tate it’s all in the bag! All you got to do is go through the motions and get paid!”

“It’s not that easy Corey.”

“You making this shit harder than it is.”

“I’m not comfortable with that bitch Melissa out there!”

“What can she do? She’s just some old whore he was banging…he was an ass, got what he deserved.”

“Corey I don’t know what she knows.”

“What does it matter?”

“Warren could’ve told her something that makes me look suspicious.”

“You’re paranoid.”

“We need her out of the way!”

“You really want to kill her?!”

“That bitch could be standing in the way of almost a million…and all his fucking assets!”

“Tate I’m not comfortable killing two people, well actually you killed him.”

“Don’t you dare!” Tatum said. “You are just as much involved as me!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t give it to him,” Corey said.

“Please,” she said. “If I go down, you go down!”

“You’d give me up?!”

“I’d kill her before I have to give you up Corey.”

“Aw, well that makes me feel a whole lot better,” he said. “I don’t want to kill nobody else….and you shouldn’t either.”

“If I had my way I wouldn’t, but if this bitch ruins things….,”

“You keep saying that,” Corey said. “What could she know?”

“You never know what a cheating man would tell his whore.”

“You’ll never find out.”

“Yes I will.”

“How?”

“I know who she is now…and thanks to you, I know where she lives.”

“You think she’s gonna be friends with you?”

Tatum stared at her brother coldly, “Corey, with our without your help I’m going to find out what that bitch knows. If she knows nothing, good for her, but if she does….,”

“You’ll kill her,” Corey said.

Tatum smiled.

“I’m not helping you kill another person,” he said.

She kept smiling. “My dear brother, since I’m handling my late husband’s arrangements, let me go over his financials with you. I have them now.”

“What are you talking about? You never wanted to go over anything with me before….I’ve been helping you on your word.”

“Warren wasn’t dead then Corey….he is now.”

“And so?”

“Before you say you don’t want to kill anybody else, wait until I show you all he has, and what we’ll get.”