Wednesday, February 3, 2016

#IWSG – MONTHLY CHECK IN, FEBRUARY 2016 – JEEPERS PEEPERS, WHERE'D YA GET THOSE CREEPERS!


Time for the monthly #IWSG check-in for insecure writers for February, 2016. January was missed because I FERGET and it's been so long ago now, but it was a pretty damn good reason, because a bunch of somethings came up and I was either out of town, or busy with something musical. I have been writing and have come up with a FABULOUUSSS idea for a semi-autobiographical novel in a serial form, that, well, if I could draw something besides crap like this:


GIRL WALKING WITH DOG


I never could draw worth a hoot; essential tremor just makes it more bizarre. No one in their right mind would ever take THIS seriously!

courtesy:imdb.com

I would love to create graphic novels, since I am intrigued by them. I will not be doing a Jennifer Jones-type thing, no way, no how. She confronts her abuser and she forces him to go through what he put her through; that would be a short chapter in my book, since it would involve fire and a swift beheading with a sharp scimitar and I'd ride merrily off into the sunset on my Arab steed and drink a non-alcohol piña colada. No tit for tat. Brute force...Aaaaand we're out! (Dust hands off)

courtesy:cinapse.co

The name of this so-called WIP is “Nebraska Creepers” and it involves folks in and around Nebraska Avenue and some of them are from my own imagination, and some of them are real, but we got a bit too close to real-life the other morning. A week ago last Monday to be exact. The weather has been strange here, as it has all over the country. Fronts have been moving through with a ferocity not seen in over a decade. We've had some tornadoes, and high winds, thunder and lightning and it's been very cold for protracted periods of time. Then it would warm up and the process starts again.

It's known in da 'hood that I am now single, or “widowed” (although Jim and I were never married; people tend to be vague around here) and I live alone and like it. I am very careful. My door is always locked when I go to bed and the deadbolt is slid home in its slot. Such it was on Sunday before last when I went to be and checked it once more as the wind howled with a ferocity that I really hadn't heard before around these old houses. This is the “old Tampa” near Ybor City, where the houses were built in the 20s and are “shotgun style” and not insulated. Most are termite-ridden and held together with the 197 coats of paint I may have mentioned in a previous post. I had woken up around 10 am to call a dear, dear friend down near West Palm and we chatted for a bit, and then I went back to sleep around 10:45. Alex was coming by later with some books and goodies that he was picking up from the VA – he had a Dr. appointment over there. The wind was still a-howling, and the door was still locked, I could see it from my bed. I fell asleep.

courtesy:creepypasta.wikia.com    


I think we're "hard-wired" to find these images disturbing and I don't know why. I'm certainly not physically afraid of anything, when confronted by the mopes around here and elsewhere. But these images are disturbing I think because they speak to something deeper than just physical decay; they may take our souls, or corrupt us morally and I think THAT is what scares us.

I was sleeping on my right side and I was deeply asleep, but something didn't feel right, or I felt an intrusion upon my subconscious (my father did this as well, and it used to scare the hell out of my mother, but he always had good cause for doing it; he nearly beat an intruder to death once) and I went from comatose to Defcon1 in a nanosecond. Even though I cannot see well, I have “memorized” where certain things are, like the lamp. I reached for it with my left hand, opened my eyes, turned suddenly and yelled “What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

As I rose up in the bed, I noticed there were two men; one at my left, with his right hand about nine or so inches from my head and one at the foot of my bed. I swung the lamp, trying to brain the guy by my head with the heavy base; missed by a mile and the two terrified men ran for the front door and outside, down the steps and up the street. I locked the screen door, deadbolted the front door AGAIN, and used the door lock, AGAIN. I believe that the wind shook the door frame so hard, and the frame, being weak (along with the door) pulled away from the deadbolt, as Alex was able to do so easily when he came by about 45 minutes later. We bought and put ANOTHER bigger deadbolt on the door, plus, I now must make sure that screen door is locked.

It's creepy and remarkable that none of my jewelry, which was out , none of the 7 computers, not the 48" flat screen, not my wallet which was out were taken. Those two men saw an opportunity to commit a crime of rape and that's all they were there for. Had I not sensed something and woken up, and they'd gotten their hands on me, who knows what would have happened. I certainly wouldn't have given in, but I do know now, my feisty neighbor was home and he probably would have bailed me out. Still, it beggars the mind, people just strolling in your house in mid-day!

Later on, I talked to my neighbor and found out he's home all day and his girl friend works days, while he works nights. They brought me a stun-gun that they showed me how to use (it's right by my bed; let's hope I don't stun myself) and it's nice to know they're over there. We've always been there for each other. He laughed and said, “I thought you and Alex were having a tiff.”

I moved it away from the phone which has a "torch" (an English term to class it up, I guess). The "torch" alone will blind a sighted person. Ha!

I looked at him and said, “We've never had a tiff in the history of E-VER!” and laughed. Of course, Alex and I argue like a couple of old ladies, but that's a whole other thing!

Anyway, crime has been thwarted once again on Nebraska Avenue. I called the police and got the usual blah-blah. This is the 4th time I've actually gone after someone and gotten them to stop whatever nefarious thing they thought they were going to do. Calling the police and waiting for them to show up is beyond ridiculous around here. Not because the police are ridiculous, but because there is so MUCH crime and if you can't protect yourself, and oh maybe, discourage the bastards from trying it again, you can't live here. I don't mind living here and besides, Tampa Housing Authority has this nifty computerized system. You sign up (before the housing lists closed and before Jim died) and you get moved BACKWARD on the list. That's some terrific system. I'ma go live in a tent, or a yurt with some horses. Anyway, I've got plenty of fodder for my “Nebraska Creepers” series. Happy writing!
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