I recently found an old Word file with over 300 pages of orphaned story fragments and my first novel. It’s over 228,000 of old memories, lost friends and enemies, and empty hallways that lead to no where. A lot of it is meant to stay in the dark, but some of it wants to go places. And until I figure out where they should go, this place will have to do…
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Another night in neon darkness. I saw the signs earlier and I chose to ignore them. A bat flew through my window, I thought, well, fuck me, a bat flew through my window! The moon turned blood red, I thought, well, that’s different. The blind soothsayer grabbed me as I left the house and screamed for me to go back to bed, nothing good could come out of me being out and about, and I thought, well, what do soothsayers know anyway?
And now here I am in this place, feeling the old feelings and all this alcohol depositing in my brain. That’s the problem with alcohol really…it goes to all the wrong places. It affects the head, never the heart. So when it all winds down and your head is cloudy and your mouth is dry and your stomach creaks, your heart is precisely how you left it the evening before.