Damsel In Distress

Damsel In Distress

Hello Friends,

I realize that it has been a while. Things have been tough. I thought I had a handle on things, and I thought I was going to be okay, but I wasn’t and I’m not. I am not okay.

My dad has been gone 6 weeks now. It still hurts and I still can’t believe it happened. I lost my love for writing and reading. I lost my love for TV. The only thing I kept was my love for music, but even that caused problems. I had to listen to things that didn’t remind me of my dad…which was kind of hard because my dad loved music to.

This past week I finally admitted to myself that I wasn’t okay. I admitted that I may actually need therapy, to talk to a professional. I admitted it to my mom and my brother. And now I admit it to you and the rest of the world. I need help. And it’s okay that I need help. It’s not okay to continue trying to take care of things myself. Somethings you just need a little help getting through. Especially something this hard.

Today, I wrote a poem and actually finished it. It’s something I haven’t done in a very long time. I usually write poetry in my very dark moments. And this is probably the darkest moment of my life. So, for those of you still around waiting to hear from the lost and broken Heather…here is a little poem I have written.

Damsel In Distress:
There is no prince charming
There is no white horse
There is only a damsel
And she is in distress

There is no secret family
There is no secret fund
There is only a damsel
And she is in distress

There is no mother ship
There is no alien planet
There is only a damsel
And she is in distress

This isn’t a fairy tale
Life can be a villain
And here we have a damsel
And she is in distress

She has no kiss to awaken her
She has never lost a shoe
She is just a simple damsel
And she is in distress

Living in reality
Lost in fantasy
She is a damsel
And she is in distress

I know I can’t keep waiting
I have to save myself
I am a damsel
And I am in distress

Just a Ghost

The more days pass, the easier it becomes. Some times it doesn’t hurt as much when I think about my dad. Some days I can think about him and smile about all the wonderful things that made up my dad. Today was not one of those days.

Today I thought about my dad laying in the hospital bed. I thought about how I held his hand so tight for the last few hours of his life. I remember the little drop of blood that had escaped the band aid on his arm. I thought about how the doctor decided not to put a new heart monitor in because it would be pretty much a waste and it would only cause more distress to the man dying in the hospital bed.

I thought about my dads strong and calloused hands. I thought about his love for cutting grass and working in the yard. I thought about how he loved those stupid fidget spinners and crunch bars. I thought about how empty the house is without him.

The world refuses to stop while figure everything out. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that my dad will never walk into my room again and ask me what something is. He will never ask me how to get to a website or how to change his ring tone. I will never argue with him about something that may or may not have happened in a movie.

There are so many things that remind me of my dad.

I finally started writing the story he gave me. I got to over a thousand words in less than an hour and I cried through the whole thing. The story I am writing starts with my dad passing away in the hospital. I relived the last few hours my dad was alive, but I was able to write it. I will probably cry every time I read it and I hope that once it is published, it will make others feel my pain and cry with me.

Looking In

The night that my mom took my dad to the hospital replays in my head all the time. You see, that night I sat at the table with my mom, my dad was on the porch smoking. I remember playing with his knife and I pointed at him with the tip of the knife. I was teasing him. He waved at me and I laughed telling my mom that my dad needed more attention then a pregnant woman.

Now looking back at that, I wonder if my dad was waving bye to me. I wonder if he knew at that moment that our lives were about to be destroyed.

I also wonder if my dad is still on the outside looking in. I wonder if my dad is watching his family while we go through this. I wonder if he is hurting for us. I know he wouldn’t have left us if he didn’t have to, if he didn’t have something much more important to do. But I wonder if he is looking in or down at us, watching as we work through our suffering.

The more I think about it, the more I think that maybe I am the one on the outside looking in. Maybe I am peeking through a window at a world that no longer makes sense. I was window shopping for a new life and I was conned into picking a life that wasn’t as advertised.

There are other things about my dads last week with us. Things that happened that make me wonder if maybe…just maybe, if I had a time machine I could go back and save him and save my family the heartache we are going through right now.

The day before my dad went to the hospital his truck died. My mom text me saying “Your daddy’s truck died.” His truck is still sitting in the yard, broken down, needing a new water pump (or so my dad thought.) My parents were supposed to go the next day (the day after he went to the hospital) to get the new part so he could fix his truck.

Maybe a few days before, I posted on Facebook that now that we had a nice new home I thought maybe I needed a new life to go along with it. It was my way of saying I was looking for a new job…but I got a new life alright. A new life that I didn’t expect.

He worked so hard to get us into the home we are in. He was also super quick to get things into the house, things he knew we needed. It was like he was trying to rush us to get everything in and unpacked.

My dad also had more back pain the last week. He has been living with pain for something close to 20 years because he got hurt at work and was disabled. So no one thought it was weird, just that he had been working himself too hard. I wish we would have stopped and thought about it. He died of pancreatitis. Symptoms of that is back pain…back pain. Something my dad had lived with for a very long time. Something that didn’t strike any of us as odd when it got worse because it was normal.

See, this isn’t the first time that our norm has changed. Before my dad became disabled life was good. We had a home. My dad would get out in the yard and play with me and my brother. We lost part of my dad when he got hurt because he couldn’t do all that stuff anymore. Not like he used to. But we still loved my dad. We still loved him and stuck with him even when we were homeless.

It was good for me because where we had lived I had slipped into a really bad depression that was going downhill fast. So fast that I was thinking about killing myself. When my dad got hurt we had to move away and moving away took me away from the people that picked on me. Moving away took me away from all the dark things that made me want to hurt myself. I sometimes blamed myself for my dad getting hurt, because someone knew I needed to get away…and that was the way we had to go.

Life doesn’t make sense! It doesn’t make sense and it’s not fair. Why can’t it be fair? Why can’t the man upstairs let people live long and happy lives? So little would have to change for life to be fair. But I guess everyone has a different way of deciding what is fair.


Today marks 2 weeks since my dad passed. Sometimes I think the word “died” and it makes it that much worse, so I tell people my dad has passed. He has passed from this world to the next, to what ever we have to look forward too once our earthly bodies can no longer hold us down.

It was a hard day for me. A very hard day. I had to work open to close, around all these people that are going about their day and I am still shattered. I am a picture that has fallen off a while while the home owners are away on vacation, so there is no one to sweep up the pieces. I just lay on the floor broken into a million pieces.

I have thoughts that I shouldn’t have. Thoughts about not wanting to be here anymore. But I have so much to do now. My dad gave me a story to write and I have to write it. And it has given me more and more ideas to write. I am a writer and writers do best when they have pain to draw from.

I also fear something happening to my mom and my brother. Anytime I can not see them I fear something has happened. Is there a word for a fear of anyone leaving the house? Agoraphobia is the fear of going outside the house…I feel that developing a little too. But it’s more of a fear of anyone I love leaving my sights.

I looked it up, a fear of loved ones dying is called Thanatophobia. I guess there is a phobia for everything. Before my dad died I had a fear of something going wrong, like if I didn’t love my family enough one of them would be taken away. It’s almost like my heart knew it was about to get hit. Or maybe it’s just my anxiety. I may worry myself to death one day.

I keep thinking how eventually someone is going to die. Someone close to me. And then I think that maybe I don’t want to fall in love or have kids, because that is only more people to grow close to that could die. And maybe my whole life I have been protecting myself from all of this. Maybe that is why I didn’t have too many close friends and I didn’t get to close to a lot of family. Maybe this whole time I have just kept people at a distance so it wouldn’t hurt when someone died. I just thought I had more time with my immediate family. I thought I had more time with my dad.

Isn’t that the problem with everyone though? We all think we have more time, when in reality we are ticking time bombs, waiting to explode and destroy someone’s norm.

Does it make it better when you are close to more people? Does it help if you have more close friends to huddle around you when you lose something so precious? Maybe I only made it worse on myself by not being closer to people. Maybe the more pieces of your heart you give away, the less it hurts when someone dies and takes that piece with them. OR maybe not matter what you do, when a parent dies it just hurts more than anything you have ever experienced in your life.

I wonder sometimes if this all happened for some greater being to show me how minuscule my other problems were, how lame my anxiety issues were. Because it all just seems so stupid now.

We are all ticking time bombs, waiting to explode and destroy someone’s norm.

The Bubble

The world around me moves on. Everyone goes to work. They go to bed at a decent hour, get up early…or late. They skip breakfast, rushed lunches, and lonely dinners. For friends and family, their world was upset, but as of now, just a small piece of their heart is missing. They will see something that will remind them of my dad, they will smile, and move on. Their life has changed, but only slightly. It’s not something they think about constantly, it’s just another passing thought.

For me, the thought is constant, all day every day. I sale a fidget spinner at work and I think of how my dad loved those stupid things. Someone talks about going fishing and I am reminded that my dad really wanted to go fishing again. Someone asks a question about how to get rid of ants in their yard and I recall my dad walking around the yard with a gas can and a lighter, burning all the ant hills he could find. Someone has car issues and I instantly think “my dad can fix that.”

The world continues on, nothing much has changed for people that didn’t see my dad everyday. But for my mom, brother, and myself, or norm has been flipped upside down. Our norm was 4 people and a dog. Our norm was leaving my dad and the dog at home while we did things around town or got dinner because daddy didn’t like going out much and “someone has to stay with the dog.” That was his excuse for not leaving the house anyways. Our norm was bringing home food to my dad after we ate out. Our norm was coming home after work and my dad having dinner ready for us.

But we have a new norm now. We are 3 people and a dog. The dog now has to sit at someones feet or sit in her chair if no ones lap is available, because daddy’s lap was always available for her. We now go out to eat and leave the dog home alone, or my brother uses it as his excuse to stay home. We no longer bring food home for my dad, and only sometimes bring home food for my brother. When we go on vacations, the dog will have to stay in the hotel alone, because I still won’t leave her with someone, at home, or at a doggy daycare place.

Our new norm is something I am still trying to wrap my head around. It doesn’t feel real. It hurts like nothing I have ever experienced in my life. My new norm is constantly worrying about losing someone else in my life. My new norm is being scared to death that I will not survive another death in my family right now. I can’t lose another grandparent, aunt, uncle, or cousin. I can’t lose my dog and I shouldn’t worry about that because she is only 3. But my new norm is realizing that no matter how safe you think you are, death will find you in some way. But can my heart take anymore pain?

What I have realized through all of this is that the human heart is the strongest thing in the world. I know I am not the only one that has survived a parent. Some people have lost both of their parents younger than what I am now. And I am so sorry to all of you that have. I understand your pain now and I want nothing more than to hug you. But so many have survived and moved on and done great and wonderful things in their lives, even after a devastating loss. Our hearts can handle it. Our hearts can be broken into a million pieces and crushed into the ground and we pick it up and put it back together. We may not have all the pieces again, but it’s enough to function, to move on, to be happy again.

I am part of a new world and I don’t like it, I don’t want to know this world yet.

I am not sure if I am happy yet…I feel like I will never be happy again for more than a few seconds. But I am trying. I am moving on like my dad would want.

Better yet, I am writing again. And not just writing, but researching. My dad told me a story once, it was a dream of his, and he wanted me to write the story so bad. I would roll my eyes at him and laugh. I wish I had worked on it sooner, but I know this is what he wants me doing right now. I am a writer and I have found my muse again. My heart break has brought me back into my element and I know my dad will take this walk with me.

The Truth of the Matter

A friend tells you that their parent has died. You give them your condolences and you move on. For you, nothing much has changed except one person in your life you have met and know will no longer be there. For you, life goes on.

No one tells you about the heartache and pain that they suffered. Because it can’t really be put into words. Seconds will go by without thinking of the one you have lost. Hours will go by when all you can think about is that person. You go to sleep thinking about them and wake up with them on your mind. It’s a never ending trail of darkness and depression. It’s anger and pain. It’s rage. You are angry at whatever higher being you believe in. You are angry with the person that died because they left you. You are angry at every person that still has their dad.

But it doesn’t end there. I am angry at the world for moving on while my life has flipped upside down. I want to shout at the sky and punch the clouds. I’m angry because my family has had such horrible luck and just when we think things are getting better the rug is ripped out from under us. I’m mad that the world stolen away my mom’s soul mate. I am mad that the world has stolen away one of the greatest men this world could have seen. I am mad because I am a daddy’s girl with out a daddy.

I am mad that I feel so much when all I want to feel is normal. I want to stop expecting my dad to come walking through the house only for the realization hit me like a ton of bricks that I will never hear him stomp through the house again.

I can’t tell you how many times I have wished to go back in time. Or even to ask my dad how he is. I want to know if he suffered in that hospital bed for 3 days or if he left before then. I want to ask him if he knew what was coming.

But most of all I want to ask God why it was my dad’s turn to leave. Why when things were finally looking up for us did he take away one of the best things we had?

And then, after all my questioning and yelling is done I am terrified that I will be punished for all of these feelings and questions. I fear that God will take more from me because I didn’t appreciate the things I still had because I was too busy mourning over what I had lost.

What people don’t tell you about losing a parent, a young parent, is that there is just so much anger and sadness that it consumes you. You want nothing more than for the world to stop and mourn with you.

All I want to do is be okay again. I want to be able to go about my day with out the smallest things setting me off. I want to be able to sleep again, without the tv staying on all night. I want to get up in the morning without being crippled with sadness. I want everything to go back to the way it was before, when my family was 4 again because it was too soon.

Suffering the Storm

At 1:30am Sunday morning my dad passed away. Yesterday was a great big party at my house and today was the memorial.

The memorial was the hardest thing I have ever been through. This whole thing has been the hardest thing I have ever been through. I have been through some dark moments in my life. I have had moments of depression where I was just sad for no reason and all I want to do now is just throw a brick at my younger me and tell her that things could be a million times worse. And I know even this, the death of my father, is not the worst that has happened to people, but it is the worst that has happened to me and I can’t stand it.

Half the time I stare at the wall like I am going to make some sense of what has happened. The other half of the time I am crying or trying to tell myself this isn’t real. How could this be real? How is it possible that everything my daddy has been through, this is what does him in? And how is it possible that the man I thought was invincible is gone and will never come back. I will never hear him laugh again. I will never fuss at him for bothering me. I will never again tell him something that happened. He will never hug me again and tell me that my speeding ticket was not my fault and that the cops were just out to get me.

I just moved into a brand new house with my family. We haven’t even made the first payment. The house is in my daddy’s name and now we have no idea what is going to happen. There is a possibility that we will lose the home. But I feel it in my heart that this is home and no one will take that away from my family and me. This is where my dad wanted us and this is where he plans for us to stay.

I feel so broken. And for some reason I am trying to fill my dads shoes, trying to take care of the family myself when I know that we all have to come together and take care of one another.

My dad was my hero. He had been through so much in his life. He was hit by a car, survived the abuse of his parents, broke his neck, and fought his way through life. He loved his knives, guns, and guitars. But most of all, he loved his family. Someone told me that my dad told them just the other week that my mom, brother, and me were his world. We were his everything, and I love that he told someone that, someone that would tell us.

I don’t know how people get through this kind of stuff. Maybe it’s just having others that need you that helps you keep going. I thought when something this bad happened to me I would just sleep through it. I can’t even sleep. I fall asleep and wake up in a panic. I have decided to go back to work tomorrow, but I don’t know if I can actually do it. I don’t know if I am ready.

Right now I just want a time machine to go back to before everything happened. Before the old house was torn down and we had to live in the rental for 6 weeks. Back to a time when my daddy was alive and well. Back when my family was still whole.

Death Awaits


In most of the stories I have written, someone always dies. It’s just how things go in my mind, I may be a tad obsessed with death and the grief it brings. Or the strength that it brings. Most of my characters gain a strength and purpose from the death they have witnessed. Some just gain a load of sadness that slows down their journey.

Death has always had a presence in things that I write and it’s not always a character that dies. And I am sure that most writers can say this about their own writing. Death is always there.

One thing I never thought about was how death actually feels. They say to write what you know. So, how do I write about a character that is stabbed through the chest. How to I show his/her pain and confusion? Also, what do I actually think happens when someone dies? Obviously there are different beliefs as to what happens to a person when they die.

So much goes into a death scene. Does that character feel the pain? Do souls exist and if so, where does that soul go? Does the soul leave the body before it feels the pain? In an instant death, is it really instant for the person who is dying?

So many questions come to the surface when you really think about it. It is never simple for me when writing a death scene. Before long it can become this long drawn out scene that has more detail then it needs. I suddenly channel my inner Stephen King and draw out a death for several pages before it is over.

Than again, I have had a few death scenes where someone dies and two sentences later the chapter ends or the characters move on.

What characters get longer scenes? Obviously you are not going to kill off your main character, unless you are one of those writers that like to ruin the lives of your readers. But the main character can lose someone close to them, some one that was only second to the main character. Does this character get a longer scene than say…Betty, of whom you just introduced and gave a quick back story? Does the main characters mother get a longer death scene then his/her best friend?

I guess it all comes down to what role that death plays in the novel as a whole. For instance, the main character’s mother dies, which causes him/her to go on some kind of rampage or some sick quest to find a new mother.

How do you face a death scene in your own writing?

Meet Again 2

Let’s Talk about Sex

Or rather lack of sex.  Just hang in there, this is not another blog about my current situation (completely single!)  I want to talk about this guy Elliot Rodger.  Have you heard of him?  You can check out this VIDEO over at gawker if you would like.

Basically this guy has lost his mind.  He is 22 years old, a virgin, and never been kissed.  Because of all of this he feels the need to get revenge on all the girls that have rejected him, by killing them.  He went into some college and killed 7 women in a drive by shooting, then killed himself.  His only reasoning for this is that he deserved love and sex from beautiful women.

Now, I am 28, a virgin, and never been kissed.  I can be an angry person sometimes, especially when I am battling one of my depression wars.  I get down on myself because I have never been kissed.  The whole virgin thing is a choice and I am proud to say that I am a virgin.

I will go through a list in my head of all the guys I have liked.  All the guys that have rejected me in some form or another.  I have had a lot of crushes in my life, so the list can get a little long.  Actually that is a lie.  It’s not that long because I don’t really hold a grudge.  If the guy doesn’t like me, it’s not his fault.

Of course this leads me to wondering what is wrong with me.  What did I do wrong?  Am I too ugly?  Am I too fat?  Am I too childish?  WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

Don’t worry, I know I am awesome, and while I could lose some weight it is not what is holding me back from finding love.  That is something that is rooted deep down inside, a glimmer of  “I’m just not ready to trust someone completely.”  Yep, I have found the cause to my singleness and it’s name is Heather.

Back to the topic.

My point is, I have never once thought about revenge on those that have rejected me.  I might have thought of punching him if he rejected me in a harsh way, but it would never go as far as killing.  Also, I never thought to get revenge on all men…just because a few have turned me down.  The only person I ever thought about hurting to the point of death, was myself.  Yes, at one point I was suicidal and I never thought to take anyone with me.

So, where does this kid get off telling the world that he is so great he deserves women and sex?  Before I saw his video I might have said “Oh, he is a cutie.”  But his whole attitude ruins any part that might have seemed attractive.

I feel like I am rambling so let me say a few more things and I will let you all get back to your day.

No one DESERVES love or sex.  Boys need to get this out of their head.  You may workout all the time to make yourself look fantastic, but that does not earn you the right to sleep with whoever.  When will the kids learn that it’s not about looks anymore.  It’s about personality!  Yes, looks can sometimes matter.  I mean, you have to be attracted to the person, but just because they are not beautiful doesn’t mean they are not a beautiful person.

I feel like I am going to stick my foot in my mouth if I continue on with that.

Let me put it this way.  You can be gorgeous, movie start status, and still look ugly.  Why?  Because beauty is also in your attitude and the way you treat others.  If you are rude and only care about yourself, that drops your beauty points to the bottom of the barrel.  Does any of this make sense?

Ugh, for a writer I sure am having a hard time explaining what is in my head.  I think I am just too emotionally attached to the whole thing.

I will end with this.  You don’t deserve love if you haven’t earned it.  And this kid…I feel sorry for him.  Not because he was a virgin, but because he was so lost in the world he felt like he deserved something without working for it.

Smell of Death

For the past week my house has smelled like death.  It’s not because my house is dirty and it has nothing to do with the new puppy that I brought home Saturday.  See I live in the country and there are all kinds of smells that linger, but none have ever been this bad.  We have debated on what it could be and every time we think we know the cause something happens to disprove our theory.  So I took it upon myself to tell the story of why there is a dead body under my house.

The Story Begins

Ten years ago we moved into this house.  It was a quick decision, we didn’t have a lot of time to find anything better.  Not only was the home available, but it was with in our price range as well.  We jumped on the chance to buy the house, even with the horrible smell of the inside.

The previous owners had owned dogs and kept them in the house.  Which is fine, I love having animals in the house, but the owners didn’t house train the dogs.  Every room in the house was covered in carpet and that carpet was soaked with dog pee.  Add that on top of the house being shut up for months and it being the middle of summer, you can imagine the smell that buried itself into your nose.  I think I could actually see the green fumes of stink flowing out of the floor.

Even after removing the carpet the smell did not go away.  The dog urine had leaked into the wood under the carpet.  We had to pull up the carpets and cover the wood floors with baking soda to soak up the urine and get rid of the smell.  That was only the beginning of the reservations we had to do to the house, but that is when the trouble started.

While removing the carpet we found a loose board.  I know what you are thinking, “That only happens in movies.”  But you are so very wrong. It happens to people who settle for a home in a bad neighborhood.  It’s not a bad neighborhood because of crime.  No, it’s a bad neighborhood because most of the families that live here are related.  They were related to the previous owner and that owner actually died in this house.

Don’t worry, this isn’t a ghost story.

Under the loose boards we found letters.  Me being the curious girl that I am I had to read them even after my dad told me to throw them away.  I hid them in my journal until everyone was asleep that night.  Sometimes it’s best to let certain things go and I really wished I had listened to my dad.  I wish I had throw away those letters.

The first letter was normal.  It looked like a sweet love letter.  The writer of the letter was talking about how she would love some man until death.  A little extreme, but some love stories are like that…right?  I continued to read the letters and the last few really struck me as odd.  It seems that the writer of the letters was in love with a married man.

I didn’t know that the man was the previous owner. I found that out later.  I also found out that the man didn’t die of natural causes.  It seems that he was poisoned by his wife and the woman who loved him.  The poor man didn’t see it coming.  What I gather, he loved his wife but the woman from the letters was a high school sweetheart who didn’t know how to let go.  He hid the letters so his wife wouldn’t find them.

My question is, why hide them when you could just throw them away.  Seriously, he could have told his wife about the loony woman and things would have been fine…Okay not really.  The woman from the letters would have still killed him.

Evidently the wife found the letters and decided that her husband was cheating on her.  Which, of course, he wasn’t.

So the man was killed by a ton of poison and the woman who wrote the letters was killed by the wife.  Crazy right?

After asking around about the people that used to live in my house, every one got suspicious and found out that I knew the story.  That is when the trouble started happening.  The woman who wrote the letters to the man, let’s say her name was Lucy.  I don’t want her family to find out I was writing about her.  Lucy was related to the people that live around here, and so was the mans wife.  They were sisters!! Isn’t it funny how sisters will fight over a man?  Of course, Lucy was the mans high school sweetheart.  Who knows how the sister ended up marrying him.

I was talking about how crazy both of the woman sounded.  The family didn’t take to kindly to that.  Since then we have had a ton of problems.

They have stolen our mail and our home was almost sold out from under us because we didn’t get the tax notice.  They tried to hook up to our well and steal our water.  They have even stolen power by using an extension chord plugged into the outlet we had to set up for our pool.  That isn’t even the worst.  We have lost so many animals to these people poisoning them!   The whole family has close relationships with poison.

The Threats

This is where we are now.  The family that surrounds my property want us out.  They want us to move so they can have this land and reclaim it as family property.  I am also aware that somewhere in the yard something of value has been buried.  I don’t even want to know what is hidden in the building behind my house.  It is on our property and we use it to store things, but I have never thoroughly inspected it.

About a month ago I heard the neighbors laughing and shouting nonsense about killing someone.  I didn’t think much about it.  They have a lot of parties and drunk rant all the time.  I just figured they were drunk again.

I was outside throwing my knives when someone walked down the road and into the house of my neighbor.  They glared at me the whole time.  I think I even heard them say something about how they were going to fix me.  I didn’t think anything of that either.  You just don’t threaten a girl who is outside throwing knives!  At least not if you are smart.

That brings us to this week.  The smell that has permeated the entire house and didn’t seem to be going away.  We thought it might possibly be a dead cat in the vents, or even a litter of dead kittens.  We thought that maybe it was the opossum or the raccoon that sometimes eats with my cats.  We just assumed it was an animal that created the smell through out the house.  Some animal that crawled under the house and died or was drug under the house after it was killed.

The Body

My brother and I decided to crawl under the house and have a look around.  I do not like crawling under houses.  Even thinking about it makes my skin crawl.  All the spiders and other crawly creatures that live in damp places.  Not to mention the snakes and the bones of all the pets that died under the house.

We didn’t have to go far, we just followed our noses and there it was.  The body.  It was bloated and gray.  Cold dead eyes that were once blue stared back at us.  The mouth was open wide as if the man had been killed mid scream.  I tried to hurry out.  I tried to scream. I tried to close my eyes.

But I couldn’t do anything.  I could only stare until I heard my brother gag.  It was then that I noticed the maggots crawling out of a slash across the mans stomach.  It was at that point that I also realized his guts were hanging out and my hand was very close to touching what had trailed behind the body.

I rushed out from under the house as quickly and my hands and knees could carry me and grabbed the phone to call the police.

Finding the Truth

The police were able to drag out the body and take it away.  The fact that there was no blood at the site they knew the man had not been killed there, of course it would be hard to kill someone under a house….wouldn’t it?  They raided our home to look for blood and weapons.  They even asked the infamous question “Do you have any enemies?”  We told the cops about the neighbors and what had been going on with them.

Later that day they told us what had happened.  My next door neighbor had actually placed the body under our house.  It seems she was mad at us for not sharing our well and she was mad at the man because he wouldn’t leave his wife to be with her.  Talk about a crazy family.

I feel like I have moved into one of those backwoods movies where the inbreeds fight over who gets to eat the human skin.  *Shudder*  Obviously it is about time to get out of this neighborhood before they come to kill me!

The End