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My So-called Horrible Dream

Ever wondered, what life would be like without all the rules, expectations, and dreams of ever finding your one true love. Spending hopeless nights, hoping and praying of meeting Prince Charming at your door, waiting to whisk you off into the sunset.

I’ve never considered myself the type to hope and pray for a man. It was more the chance of fate and life’s, so-callled perfect timing. While the elders of our time, protest up and down the streets in a manic rage that things happen for a reason. People will walk in your life, as quickly as the weather changes in Chicago. Never doubt or second guess life’s reasons, but learn to adapt to change.

Well, the other night I had this horrible dream. Maybe, not so horrible but definitely out of character for me. Maybe my dream man isn’t a man but a woman. The idea of waking up to a woman every morning didn’t seem so bad. The smell of her sweet scent in the morning. The caressing of her gentle fingers encircling my harden nipples. And the touch of her sweet lips onto mines brought a sense of pleasure inside. A woman who goes out of her way to cater to my every personal need. Rising from the bed every morning to make me coffee just the way I like it, black and strong. Taking the dog out without any panties on. Taking care of the kids and their very tedious demands. Just to return to the bed, with coffee in hand.  She kisses me on my soft rose colored lips, while her fingers fondle my most gentle spots. Setting the coffee of the nightstand, she begins to remove my single piece of garment. Singling little time for chit-chat, she works her tongue slow up and down my sweet spots. Making sure to leave no spot untouched. Thrusting her fingers inside my wetness spot, her tongue follows suite, sure to leave me gasping for  air. As squirt with excitement, she falls to her knees. Slowing raising my body from the bed, I left her small pale breast to enclose my mouth around them. Using my only available hand, I attempt to return the favor. Only to be smacked down for trying.

Then suddenly a certain reminder impeded through my mind, in the mist of this wonderful attention. The dog starts barking and the kids start laughing. I roll over. To no surprise, she was gone like a thief in the night. Robbing me of such pleasure, yet leaving me with a loudly snoring man that mumbles incoherent words in his sleep. Damn it!

It was only a dream. The real idea of waking up to a woman is no better than waking up to man.

Well, thanks for wishful dreaming!


My So-called Horrible Dream!


Why Do I Write-

I was asked the question, why do I write? I guess, it was a thought provoking question but in more ways than one.

After spending about an hour ranting and raving about working and writing, the question was asked, why do you write? I had to sit back and think about why it was asked and what was the moral of the question. I spent a little time evaluating the question carefully, before I responded with caution. I’m a firm believer you thinking before I speak and using caution with the words I allow to flow from my tongue, because once they’re out…..there’s no take backs. What you put in the open has a way of biting you in the ass, so you caution before you speak.

Although, back to the question. In my mind, I realized a few things:

  1. I write because it’s soothing to my soul.
  2. I write to kill the crazy thoughts which flows in my head, like a person with schizophrenia reacts.
  3. I write because I love to watch the thoughts in my head, take form on paper.
  4. Finally, I write because I love the idea of being a child with an venomous imagination. 

So, after reveling these thoughts in my head, I thought about the original question and who was asking me this question. Without care or caution, I responded with the following statement: “I write because I enjoy being a kid in heart. It allows me to share my childish thoughts with the world, not caring about judgment. These are the only times, I am allowed to be myself, and not worry about anything or anyone. Writing soothes my soul, which allows me to be free from my motherly duties. Writing is me and I am an author. Author’s write, like artist draw! So, don’t ask me why I write because I write for me with the intentions of inspiring my soul.”

I responded to the question in many ways, in more ways than I personally realized. Though, it made me realized that if I claim something I truly want, then whatever is intended for me will come.

The moral of the story, I needed a reminder to why I began writing. I have learned a lot along the way, while learning to correct and perfect my craft. I didn’t go to school to be a writer, author, or publisher….or whatever or however one chooses to define my career choice. I choose to write to express myself and be me! I never truly loved school and only went to school to financially compete with others. While I may have learned a lot and gained more, than if I didn’t go to school; I can at least say that is was a learning curve. At the end of the day, it wasn’t about fighting to stay ahead or competing for the prize of landing the perfect job. I realized that there is no perfect job. The perfect job is a job one loves and makes a career. Is there a career in writing, of course! There are thousands of books published every year, and as long as I write from my soul, then everything else will take form. Yes, there is a lot to publishing a book and I still have a lot to learn. Although, as with everyday new day, there is an opportunity to learn, write, and live my life to the fullest. So  today, I have proclaimed “I am an Author and I love what I do!”


Free Promotion- Readers Opinions

I’m really motivated to finish the next series for Curse of the Night (Margaret’s Curse), although I’m interested in gaining some responses from my readers.

I’m offering my book for free today only on Amazon-

 Curse of the Night (Margaret’s Curse):

I’m curious to how my readers would feel about Margaret’s future!

So grab your copy today!


A Learning Curve- Post Release

After releasing my latest book, Curse of the Night (Margaret’s Curse), I had some time to analyze a few things about being an author.

  1. My story lines begin as a dream – most of the time.
  2. The plot begins to formulate in my head.
  3. The words on the paper begins to tell a different story, than the plot in my head.
  4. I have to learn how to let the words develop on the paper and not control the plot in my head.
  5. Honestly, allowing my fingers to take control over my thoughts is actually worth the risk of churning out a great story line.

Curse of the Night (Margaret’s Curse), was inspired by a dream that I allowed to become real in my writing. It was an amazing experience to create such a piece of work with little control over the plot. Writing for fun seems to appeal to me more, than writing for a purpose. The inspiration for writing doesn’t have to begin with a story line, but with an idea to write everyday.

I learned a lot from writing my last book and I appreciated the learning curve. Firstly, stop waiting on an inspiration and just write. My best ideas will churn from my fingers and not my analytical mind-frame. I wasted too much time waiting on an inspiration to sit down and write, than actually allowing my fingers take control over my mind. Pleasure is self-inspired. My pleasure from writing will not come if I don’t get up and write.

Furthermore, I am more inspired and dedicated to finishing the series for Curse of the Night, than ever before. I guess I can say that I found my writing inspiration!

Curse of the Night (Margaret’s Curse)- Available free on Amazon today


Long Awaited

It’s been a long time coming, rather a long time flying. Yes, I’ve finally mastered the unthinkable! A true and utter passion. A passion with immense heart-ache and pain.

Ok, maybe I’m over exaggerating this a little bit, but I can it wasn’t an easy task. Writing from an unknown place, in an unknown world, seemed to be the right thing; though questionable in the sense of my character.

I can finally say that I am a published fiction author! Ha! Yes, I find it rather amusing. In a sense, it is undoubtedly amusing.

Curse of the Night (Margaret’s Curse) was rather a challenge of conveying my dark horrid dreams of issuing immense pain unto others, while battling the love and reassurance of a life Margaret struggles to keep together through her fight.

Book Blurb:

It’s always been an old saying, “what comes around, goes around.” Well for Margaret, she is about to learn what that truly means:

For what all its worth, maybe it was supposed to happen to Margaret. Eventually!

No matter what, it happened. And when it happened, no one was prepared!

As Margaret has begun to find herself, it appears as though, she has welcomed someone to find her? Walk with Margaret on her journey of self-discovery of reality versus fantasy.

Or, fantasy versus reality.

As she travels over this bridge – her life – Margaret begins to learn much more about the things around her than the people near her.

Curse of the Night (Margaret’s Curse) now available on Amazon @

Coming Soon: Curse of the Night (Margaret’s Vengeance)

Writing from the Soul

Writing from the Soul

I never felt so touched by my own writing! This book has been a struggle in many ways for me. It’s been an emotional roller coaster, but now that it is almost completed and will be available for publication soon; I seem so lost in my world of writing! I am very proud of myself. Challenging myself to walk through a jungle of unknown territories and obstacles! I will soon be able to share my creation with the world and that it a lot to celebrate over! January 19th!

Learning to Blog

At the beginning of every new year I hear people chatting, blogging, and posting all over social media sites about their New Year’s Resolutions. They are making resolutions to change their habits, getting a new job, going back to school, and losing weight; although how many of those resolutions does an average human being manage to keep? I’m pretty sure it will take you a few minutes to answer that question, although many of us know the answer immediately but we fail to be honest with ourselves.

Less than half!

Why are the statistics so low, well in reality making New Year Resolutions is an old school thought process that we learned as children and has been passed on for many centuries. They were taught by our great- great- great- grandparents that were pasted down among generations.

Now, I’m not saying that making these resolutions are a bad idea, although I am posing that making a list of changes each and every new year does nothing for the human soul; if they did not work the previous year. Although, this year I have challenged myself to creating a new plan. Instead of creating a senseless list of resolutions, this year I have created a Bucket List! It is entitled: Bucket List of 2014!

So here is my Bucket List of 2014:

  1. Learn how to blog daily
  2. Focus of writing
  3. Complete 4 books for the year
  4. Find a new Editor
  5. Commit to adding something new to this list everyday
  6. Live life to the fullest!
  7. Expand myself
  8. To be determined January 7th, 2014.

I really think I could get the hang of this idea! I have already master four out of eight!


Ever Wondered

I wonder sometimes, if this life was the only life that was available for me when I was born. I often times, sit and gaze at the stars imagining what my life would be life if I was given the opportunity to wait another few years. For what it is worth, this life is pretty boring. I wake to the normal flow of being waited on hand and foot. No, I am not complaining, but it’s relatively boring. I’ve been stuck in this body for almost 29 years and would die for a change of pace.

Yesterday, was the first day in years that I was able to escape my bodyguards for more than a simple bathroom break. I was in the middle of town doing a little shopping to idolize some of my down time, when I bumped into this very gorgeous woman in the back of the boutique. It was rather strange at first when we made contact. At first, I thought she randomly bumped into me and was sincere about apologizing. Although, it didn’t take me long to realize that something was a little different about this woman.

First off, she didn’t appear like she belonged in this part of town. Please don’t discredit what I am saying, she was dressed fairly well. Well groomed from head too toe, but she didn’t seem like the usual characters that I am accustom to seeing in this boutique. I shop here almost three times a week and for the life of me, this woman I can’t seem to recall ever seeing this woman.

It is something about her demeanor that had caught me a little off guard. She was pleasantly polite after bumping into me, though it felt like she had spotted me out for some reason. It was like she was rather attracted to me in a very creepy way. I have never felt so uncomfortable being out in public. Though, for some reason it feels like she was watching me for whatever reason. I noticed, her following me around the store for a while before my bodyguards regained their presence by my side. At one point, I was pleasantly grateful for the presence. Though, something inside of me wanted to know who this mystery woman was and why she choose me of all people!

I guess, I will never know but it would be rather interesting to find out.

An Amazing Author

I had the awesome pleasure of reading a wonderful story by another Indie Author, and believe this review was worth sharing! The storyline was definitely not something that I would generally get into, although she is definitely an amazing author through her writing and ability to attract a reader through her words.

The name of the book is, The Color of Thunder, by J.C. Wing.

The book is available on Amazon, as well as a few other channels.

First off, this is the typical genre of reading I would prefer to read. I was pleasantly surprised with the story line and its ability to draw my attention.

The Color of Thunder, while the cover holds true to how one may interrupt the story, it really brightened my enthusiasm to finish the book. The story dates back to the late 1940’s through the middle 1960’s in the south told through the eyes of Faith. The storyline develops quickly with setting the readers back to the era in which this author strongly connects with through her writings. This author was able to put a great connection between the cultural boundary and religious issues that the characters faced in the story. Her writings were written in a manner that engaged me in a way to connect to the struggles of the characters in the story.

The story written in first-person, begins putting strong emphasis on her family’s religious unity and the bond of the family. The story gave very descriptive perspectives of the family’s religious strength in the church and after affairs. The encounters of how others viewed her father, in the church and throughout the community.

The author was able to connect the transitional points through Faith’s story telling well, although the beginning of the story was relatively difficult to maintain my attention to everything. The author was able to greatly improve on that by the middle of the third chapter. The author wrote the story through the eyes of a character that really seemed to draw a reader into the story, while being able to understand the varying emotions and mind-frame of the character. The author gave a lot attention through her writing in connecting the reader to the storyteller, which was important in understanding her struggles and the different phases of her life. The strength of the writing provided readers with a guidance of remembering important characters, both in the family and outsiders. The author did a very well job assisting the readers through the era in which this story took place. I loved how the reader was able to connect the truth of Faith’s father’s religious battle in such a smooth manner. This book was definitely worth reading!

It’s been a while since I posted anything on blog and I apologize to all my readers.
So, I thought it would be nice to start the month off by sharing a short excerpt from the book that I am currently working on. This book has not been edited, but I want to share something special with all my followers!

Feel free to leave a comment or head over to my Author’s Page on Facebook and leave a comment!


The last thing I remembered was traveling down the bridge over on Crest Street, after leaving the bar from my occasional Friday night hookups with the gals. I don’t know how I got here or how long I’ve been here. This place is frightening. Awakening to this dark unfamiliar place, in a room unknown to me, and bound against my will is frightening.
The sound of rolling thunder beats against the shutters and strikes of lightning awakens me again to this horrifying place. Rumbling strikes of lightning breaks through the glass window that reflects against the mirror besides me. I vigorously try to free myself from the shackles on the bed. For what seems like days passing by, more and more of my body is bounded by ropes and chains. I lay helplessly on a wooden framed bed with a single mattress to support my ever dwindling body.
My feet appear to be tightly wrapped together with some type of rough fabric. My wrists are cuffed to the wooden bed frame. As I twist and turn, my stomach suddenly begins to rendered a sudden shock of pain traveling across my waist. For what feels like rolls of coils around my waist they seem to tighten with every move I make. There’s a tube entangled near the coils around my stomach on my left side. It’s hard to see what’s passing through the tube. But the pain from the tube hurts immensely.
A sudden chill sweeps over my body. The shattered window has made this room colder than before. As the wind screaks, I scream for help as loud as I can but the faintness from dehydration has left me with little voice. I attempt to cry as I try to concentrate on the last place I was at before here. My thoughts are scattered. I can’t seem to focus long enough on a single thought, as though I’ve been heavily drugged. I attempt to cry for I am frighten and confused. I am lost in my own mind in a world unknown. In a dark room with a single purple curtain to block out the world and a wooden bed that hold my fragile body. I fight to keep my eyes open long enough in hopes of a welcoming visitor. But my body continues to win a fight I no longer have control over.
∞ ∞ ∞
I awoke the next morning snatching the covers off of Michael. He turns to me with a look of concern. The frightened look on my face has reassured him of the worse. As he reached over to kiss me, I threw my body back. I know he could tell that I had another nightmare but he resists the temptation to even ask anymore. I have been suffering from these horrific dreams for weeks. It’s hard to tell my husband of two weeks about my dreams. I couldn’t possible frighten the man of my dreams into believing he has married some lunatic woman. We barely knew each other after six months before tying the knot. I want this marriage to work because I need this marriage to work. I struggle to stay silent every new day in fear of losing him. My stomach has devoured another plan. I know he wanted to ask me about my dreams. Though with every new day, he shows an incredible resistance in not asking. He leans to the other side of the bed before denouncing his retrieval to the bathroom. I can only imagine what’s going through his head right now.
As he rolled to the end of the bed, I reach for his arm in my attempts to reconcile with him but he steadfastly pushed me away. I feel bad for the things that I am not able to control. I feel bad that this man has to endure so much from me for the short time we’ve been married. I try to not take it to heart when he thrusts his body away from me, but my thoughts perceive my abilities. I know it’s been difficult for him to sleep over the last few weeks for I am the one to blame. He tries not the show any emotions. But it’s hard not to tell through his demeanor. I can’t even begin to fathom the stress I’ve put on him over the last few weeks.
I haven’t gotten up enough courage to tell him what’s been going on with me. Partly, because I can barely remember the dreams myself, though part of me doesn’t want to remember the dreams. It started a few days after we came back from our honeymoon. At first, they weren’t so bad. I would kind of fall in and out of what felt like a deep sleep when they would appear. As time went on, they became more intense. He began to notice at that point. As he would describe it, I would fight in my sleep and become extremely violent towards him. Once, he asked if I had any regrets, but I reassured him of our happy unity. As time has passed, I wonder if this unity has spun these dreams about.
Gathering my all my thoughts and emotions, I grabbed my robe off the chair in our room and made my way to the kitchen. As he was preparing himself for work this morning, I started breakfast for us. He loves the smell of my coffee after getting out the shower and I try my hardest to finish breakfast for him before he heads out the door. I put a lot of stress on myself in attempting to prepare breakfast for him every morning. I believe the only reason for the stress I endure from making breakfast for him is to show a little gratitude for tolerating me the night before. Or maybe it’s a ploy to keep my husband. My life hasn’t always been this great but I refuse to let my past be my present. Starting the coffee first, I reached over to the counter near the window to grab the last blueberry bagel in the house. He loves his bagels lightly toasted with a single egg white fried hard and a slice of bacon. I tried to add the strawberry jam on the bread before he made it downstairs, but my focus was completely shattered by my dream last night.
As he made his way down the stairs, I scurried through the kitchen to finish his breakfast and pour his coffee in a mug. Before long, he made it in the kitchen to finish along his own breakfast. Practically pushing me out of the way, he reached over the counter before I could wrap the sandwich in some foil, grabbed his mug and jetted out the door.
It always makes me feel bad when he gives me the silent treatment. I’ve tried to convince him that he has nothing to do with my nightmares, but it’s hard to convince him sometimes. Especially considering the fact that I can barely remember the dreams myself! Or at least, I choose not to remember the dreams. Once he heads out the door, and through the driveway, I run back to the kitchen to start up the computer. As the computer begins to start up, I dodge over to the cabinet to grab a mug and pour myself a cup of coffee. Proceeding through the kitchen to the storage closet, using a step stool to reach in the back of the top shelf, I grab my pack of smokes. Taking my smokes and coffee, I proceed out the back door to enjoy. The smell of the morning dew always seems to brighten up my mood after a difficult morning with Michael. I down the cup of coffee over four cigarettes in less than twenty minutes. It’s something about the coffee with a few cigarettes that easy my nerves to get through the day. Wasting no time after finishing up my forth smoke I make my way back into the house and proceed to my morning work flow.
I’ve been working from home for about eight months. It’s been very profitable for me and I love the flexibility it offers. I began telecommuting a few years ago. It took me a while to find that “perfect company”. Going through three different companies over a nine month span was well worth the experience and opportunities. When I first started working for this company, they required all new employees to work at their headquarters for six months. I only made it to four months. The drive began to exhaust me rapidly. I use to dread the two hour commute to work. I wasn’t making much progress over time and the drive home was even longer, which made me even grumpier the next day. I was able to persuade my boss that I would get more work done from home, than in the office. He agreed diligently to allow me to try it out on a monthly basis. So far, it’s been about eight month since I started working from home, and well worth the adjustment. I work for a multi-million dollar marketing company. And currently serve as the Vice-President of Marketing Affairs. In short reference, I handle all of the dispute claims for the organization.
It took some time to get use to adjusting to the extra freedom I had working from home. At first, I would spend the entire morning completing my work which left too much free time for the rest of the day. Then I tried working through the afternoon, spending my morning watching television and cleaning. Well, it worked for a short time but I would feel an enormous amount of stress in finishing dinner before Michael returned home from work. It took my about a month to find the right schedule for me. So for now, I start work around 9am and finish my morning spell by noon. From noon till about four in the afternoon is spent for cleaning, reading, shopping, or whatever else I’m in the mood for that day. After four, I usually start dinner and check my work emails, finish any paperwork necessary, mediate claims, and write adjustments. I’m not one of those Betty Crocker type wives that believe she should spend all day hovering over a stove making a delicious meal for her husband. Although, I will share the work load for cooking dinner three times a week. It’s the least that I can do since I work from home. By the time dinner is finished, Michael is strolling in the house. Normally, I am finishing up my work load within an hour tops.
At times, I think Michael appreciates me being home at night when he returns. Though, there are other times, when he appears to resent my presence upon arriving home. I have learned to look past his disgruntle stares and concentrate on my work.
We commonly spend the evenings watching a movie and eating dinner. Michael will occasionally bring work home, so he’s off to the study immediately after dinner. My nights can become boring in a matter of minutes. I guess it’s just me longing for some attention from my husband. On the nights that he brings work home, he will sit in the study until almost 10pm; before returning to sight. By the time he announces his presence and I am heading to bed. Our life operates like this five days a week.
Sometimes I wonder if this is what marriage life is about, or if we are missing something in our marriage. Considering we are a young couple. A freshly married couple, I just always thought that our sex life would be so much better!
Tonight, is like no other night. Michael and I pass each other in the halls. He kisses me on the cheek and I return the favor. With the delicate words that part his lips, “Love you Sweetie”. There are times I wish he could understand the heartache the distance brings me.