Autumn Written in Blood

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The gentle sensation of an autumn chill stroked against her cheeks, but Evangeline kept her eyes closed, and threw the duvet over her face. She tried to force herself to go back to sleep. She was sure that if she chose to rise from the comfort of her linens, she would see the mid-fall and winter frost dancing across her window pane. She could very well imagine herself settling for a warm cup of coffee at her usual cafe and take in the scenery for inspiration.

However, a cloak of numbness had wrapped itself around her soul, managed to keep her sullen, and not wanting to move. A vicious case of writer’s block had taken wake in her spirit, and was haunting her body like a disease.

“I need to check my phone…”

Evangeline let a sigh escape as she agonizingly roll beneath the covers onto her stomach and reached for her phone. These last few months had proven to be a struggle. Sleepless nights, trashed character concepts, and story board papers strewn about on the usually well kept floor. The life of a writer was shining at it’s darkest upon her. Sliding her fingers on the screen of her work phone, she saw multiple newsletters and amass of emails from her editor.

She groaned, knowing full well that her editor was going to hunt her down if she didn’t get back to him today, “I’ve gotta get up.”

With the vigor of an old decrepit 90 year old body, Evangeline’s feet touched the hard floors as she practically dragged herself towards the shower. The familiar hiss of hot water raining down from her shower head, her pajamas sluiced down to the floor. Her thoughts of hope also falling along with it.

Slipping into the spray of liquid heat, she washed, and scrubbed the grime of her sleepless escapade. Lately, Evangeline had been dreaming random oddities, she was seeing visions of unknown origins, while this should of been something to use as inspiration for her writing. The dreams made no linear sense nor did it strike passion, what it did do, plant a seed of wariness and perhaps… fear.

Evangeline shook her head, maybe being an author had finally taken a toll on her sanity. Causing her to frequently hallucinate more than live properly in the real conforms of reality.

“And that’s why I’m a writer…”

He Will Light Your Fire. Literally….

Meet the co-owner of the bar downstairs from the LIAARS office, Aki Aodhan!
A Celtic Fire demon who doesn’t realize his own strength at times….

Check out “The Case of the Lovely Dolls Part 1” from L.I.A.A.R.S.
on Tapas https://tapas.io/series/LIAARS/ep2

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Blossom

The summer comes to its end

Last of its ashes going cold

Upon the doorstep of autumn

And I lay here

Under the dying leaves

Golds, orange, reds, and browns looming above

Listening to the cackling of witches

The howls of wolves

Feral yowls and hisses from black cats

Summer has died

And autumn blooms.

Scarlet Over Tokyo (Old Drabble)

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Prologue

Scarlet bled into the blue sky, drowning the last dredges of day in a limbo of twilight. I had once loved that color so dearly, that crimson shade of passion and love. Who knew that shade could also become something worthy of the emotions called hate and anger? The sun was escaping its duties now, and hurriedly making way for night’s arrival;  I was by the seashore, angrily shedding tears, and holding that simple tube of lipstick he had given me in red.

My husband, no, excuse me, soon to be ex-husband, had always told me that this color suited me. That it highlighted my passionate integrity and liveliness that he had fallen for, what a load of bullshit that was. Seven years of my life wasted, time that I can never get back. Time that slipped away while I worked to help his business and he fooled around and got our secretary pregnant.

“Fucking cliche, straight out of a movie,” I spat, uncapping the tube of lipstick, “what is the point of vows if you can’t even stay true to them?” It hurt so badly to say these words out in the open, but these were statements that I couldn’t hold within my chest anymore.

“Make this a good last cry, Evan.” I ordered my heart, “you will never again, cry for someone who does not keep their vows.”

Never again.

I whispered to the ocean as I dug the lipstick into the sand and began to draw a line of across the moving earth. This was my own vow, to myself, and to my heart, that I would live for only for myself and no one else. I watched as the red line bled into the sand and slowly dissipate into nothing.

It was a signal to close the door on this mess of a chapter, even as the tears fell from my eyes and disappeared into the waves that lapped onto the sand. This pain would fade, I knew it would. Just like the crimson twilight above.