Wednesday, 19 October 2016

Your Mid-Week Update for 10/19/16

My god, it’s so cold in my office.

I came in early to get some work done and I’m already freezing to death. My fingertips are blue. I hate this time of year. It’s so cold in the morning but it’s too warm in the afternoon. And the pumpkin spice – sweet Jesus it’s everywhere. Plus the heater in my office smells weird; I swear it's going to explode any day now. This is no way to live.

So I kill.

My alter ego’s body count is up to four so far and I’ve officially been dubbed a serial killer by the press. I made it really easy and gave them a pun no one could resist. For my last two victims, I took their hand and left them on church steps around the city.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you:

The Hand of God Killer.

So cheesy, I know; but I didn’t come up with it. Apparently some officer was joking around at the scene of the fourth crime and the press ran with it.

If I find out that James had a hand in naming me…

Any hand-related wordplay is just lost on me now. My lovely husband and I have been using every phrase in the book. I can’t believe there’s another week and a half of this. Maybe I’ll keep it going every once in a while to keep the story fresh but I’m definitely over the whole pun thing. It’s getting a bit heavy-handed.

Okay, okay, I’ll stop. I admit this is getting out of hand.

Oh come on, you’ve got to hand it to me, these ones practically write themselves.

I’m done, I promise.

I’m just so bored and apparently I have no concentration this morning. I don’t want to be at work today and I’m so fucking cold. What else is there to say? Maybe I’ll snap someone’s neck during my lunch break; the adrenaline rush always perks me right up. It’ll be so easy to find some unsuspecting victim on the street that time of day. I have to admit, it is so handy working near the downtown area.

Alright I’m done.

Back to work, I suppose.

Is it lunch time yet?

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Wednesday, 12 October 2016

Your Mid-Week Update for 10/12/16

I had a dream about babies last night. Just holding and coddling a crying baby for what felt like hours. I woke up feeling empty and confused. I found myself thinking about children as I got ready for work; my resolve not to have any of my own.

I stand by it.

There are no newborns in my future. Neither James nor I have the time for something that requires so much attention. And yet…

It’s all because of Lydia.

She’s a new hire who is incredibly enthusiastic to the point that I want to put a pencil through my eye. I don’t even want to hurt her I just want her to leave me alone. She’s so fucking nosy but she’s getting her work done and picking it up quickly. I admire work ethic more than a mild annoyance so I’ll put up with her for the time being. But yesterday she found me during my lunch hour and just sat down and started talking. She asked me questions about my life, and my family. I kept my answers brief and as non-descript as possible but then she asked me why my husband and I never had children of our own.

I’d known this woman for a day and a half. Seriously? You don’t just ask people those kinds of questions – especially if you’re just co-workers. And yet…

I dreamt about babies.

I looked up dream meanings because there’s no way in hell my subconscious wants me to give birth. Apparently a crying baby means I am neglecting some part of my life. I don’t know what my mind thinks I’m lacking but it’s going to be bothering me all day. All because of Lydia.

I shouldn’t put so much stock in dream analysis. It’s all new-aged bullshit, completely open to interpretation. And yet…

What could I possibly be lacking? It can’t be my job; I’ve been very successful and may even pitch for a raise once year-end is done. Heather and I have been getting a long fairly well and despite Lydia’s social misconducts, she’s also tolerable. Life at home has been quite stagnant; my sister calls daily wanting to talk to Jason and every day he refuses. James and I have hit a steady rhythm of work and play with the occasional twist to keep things interesting. It’s perfect. Playing a serial killer has been absolutely hilarious; I took a whole hand on Friday instead of just a finger – the news says “the local serial killer is escalating”. I haven’t been named yet. I’d kind of like a name. We’ll see what the public come up with. I think it’s in poor taste to choose your own serial killer name.

What would you name me?

I’m completely open to suggestions. Something with appendages and limbs. Something pun-y. I leave it in your capable hands while I contemplate whatever’s missing in my life.

Thanks Lydia.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Wednesday, 5 October 2016

Your Mid-Week Update for 10/05/16

I thought it would be casual fun to play true “horror-genre” serial killer. It’s incredibly challenging.

I went from three or four random killings a week to one staged murder in a very specific location. Because I have no patience, I caught a quickie on the way home to satisfy my baser urges. Let me tell you: having a psychopathy and specific methodology to my work is hard. I don’t understand how they do it. Acting on the urge to kill for humiliation or revenge or misplaced anger – that I understand – but the need to leave a neon sign saying “I killed her and this is why” has always baffled me.

I really don’t have the desire to psychoanalyse other criminals. Your work is your own, I’m sure you have a perfectly good explanation; I admire your work, really. It just makes no sense to me.

However, in the spirit of the holiday, I’m doing my best to keep an open mind. I’ve chosen black females in their early twenties in the downtown area who are walking alone at night.

If you fit the profile: good luck.

I use the handle of my knife to stun them and then stab once in the femoral artery (and then four more stabs for a staged-overkill). Then I cut off her left ring finger with a cigar cutter and take it home in a plastic bag.

So far the only good thing that’s come out of this is that James and I have been passing the bag back and forth, giving each other “the finger”. Everything else has been normal or more frustrating. Knowing that when I go out, I’ll have no choice but to kill a specific group in a specific way is so stifling. Unpredictability is one of my favourite things about killing – besides, you know…the killing part – I think even a month of this will be torturous.

But I am determined to foll0ow through. I was right: I need the distraction.

Sandra has called me every other hour since she was started her parole on Sunday because she wants to know about her children. She wasn’t able to attend Sandra’s funeral so she wants to visit her grave site. And Jason has refused to give her his cell number. She’s been cut off from her family and it’s now fallen on me to keep her connected. I hate this feeling. Like she’s relying on me – like she’s trusting me.

Why the fuck would she think she can trust me?

And I just fielded another call from my sister. If Jason wants to talk to her, he’ll do it himself. I’ve told her that a dozen times but it doesn’t seem to be registering.

I don’t know if I’ll answer her next call.

Why should I?

I’m not her keeper, I’m her sister. And if she thinks she’ll make it in this world, she needs to understand that just because we are family does not mean I have to keep bailing her out.

I won’t do it.

God, she’s been out for three days and I’m already done with her bullshit. How am I going to handle her every single day?

Pray for me.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Monday, 3 October 2016

300 Things I Hope Blitz

Central Avenue Publishing is proud to present 300 Things I Hope, the latest book by the bestselling poet behind the worldwide sensation, I Wrote This For You by Iain S. Thomas

Initially released as a free download to thank Thomas’ thousands of fans, readers clamoured for it to become a “real” book. The 300 hopes include everything from hoping you always have a pen, to hoping you’re never lonely, and everything in between. The prose is coupled with line drawings by acclaimed illustrator and fellow South African, Carla Kreuser, resulting in a chapbook designed to be read over and over.

From Central Avenue Publishing:

Today’s poetry is different than in previous eras. It’s often shorter, highly emotive and regularly coupled with photography or illustrations. In our connected, digital world, it’s shared instantly, in 140 characters or on blogs. It’s also often on bestseller lists, and today’s poets are young, well-travelled and multicultural. It resonates with those who search for others with like experiences. Those who are in need of sympathy, empathy or just reassurance that someone else feels the same as they do. Today’s poetry is relevant and engages young people like longer literary works cannot.

From Iain Thomas:

“I feel a whole bunch of different things all the time and I go through all these different experiences, as we all do. My writing is a way of capturing that and when I put it out into the world, I’m asking: ‘I have felt this. Have you felt this?’ And if I’m lucky, I can say, ‘You’ve felt this? And I’ve felt this? OK, we’re no longer alone.’”

300 Things I Hope will be available everywhere on October 1, 2016.

Details about giveaways, online events and author appearances will be available at the author’s website at

Thomas is the poet behind I Wrote This For You, a poetry and photography blog that became a series of books in 2011. Since its inception, the poetry has been read and quoted daily by loyal fans, actors, musicians and politicians. His work is beloved by readers of all ages the world over. Carla Kreuser is an acclaimed illustrator whose work has won critical awards and honours. Both Thomas and Kreuser live in Cape Town, South Africa.

Central Avenue Publishing is an independent press based in Delta, Canada, featuring award-winning writers of original fiction, poetry, and creative non fiction. Central Avenue’s books are distributed globally by Independent Publishers Group based in Chicago.

Wednesday, 28 September 2016

Your Mid-Week Update for 09/28/16

I spent all day yesterday with my sister. I am going to kill someone.


She told me on Saturday that she had a parole hearing on Tuesday and “could I come and vouch for her?” For reasons I still don’t understand, I said yes. So I used one of my precious personal days to drive up to the dank, poorly-lit prison at 9am. They saw her at 2pm. And then I had to sit for three hours and listen to inmates, guards, and staff – everyone who’s been with her for the last seven years – talk about how kind she is, and how helpful she is, and how she’s ready to come back into the community.

She has them all fooled; thinking she is anything but a menace to society. They don’t know my sister the way I do. They don’t know the things she’s done. She got off easy with her sentencing. 15 years is not enough. Has everyone forgotten what happened over Christmas? The problem is: I still love her.

When the board asked her family to step forward I realized I was the only one there. As much as I fear my sister, my mother hates her. I was the only one there who could speak against my sister’s release and I froze. Standing in front of those men and women just looking for an excuse to lock her away, I lied. I told them my sister made a mistake. “A momentary lapse in judgement that is now costing her precious years of her life.” I almost threw up in my mouth. The things I said…

The board agreed to grant her day-parole. She gets to spend 10 hours a day out in society “making a difference.” I ran over a woman and stabbed a witness with a pen on the way home that night. I can’t believe I lied for her.


Even from prison my baby sister still has control over me. I will not let her do that to me again. Now that she’s out, I’m going to be working double duty with all of my obligations and keeping an eye on her. No matter how much supervision the parole board provide, it will never be enough. She will find a way; she will go back to her old habits.

Remember: addiction runs in the family. We’ve all given in to it but she’s worse than I am in so many ways.  I have just been sitting at my desk all morning, thinking about what’s going to happen when my sister is released next week.

I was so looking forward to October because it’s Halloween all month long around here: horror movies, crazy parties, the smell of fresh victims in the autumn air. I love it. It puts me in a sort of…mood. I want to dress up and go on a killing spree.

Or better yet, play a proper serial killer – like the kind in books and movies. I’ve talked about the psychology of serial murder all the time. Not every killer takes a trophy or maintains a pattern. Those are the ones who get caught. But I will admit that the more dramatic ones always make for an interesting story.

That’s what I’ll do. I need to get my mind off the new terror in my life. Maybe I’ll play Zodiac for a while; try my hand at being a more theatrical killer and add some more horror to the holiday season.

I should talk to James first. Changing MOs like this will affect the whole family so I need to give him a heads up first. But I need something to distract me from the hellish day I had yesterday. This could be it.

Or maybe I’ll get a dog.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Wednesday, 21 September 2016

Your Mid-Week Update for 09/21/16

Have you ever had a moment of sudden clarity? You spend your life doing something so menial and then suddenly you feel more aware of what you’re doing and why.

There is a washroom at work that has two stalls. I’ve been with this company for…too long, and it occurred to me yesterday that I’ve only ever used one stall. I have no idea what the other stall looks like. For all I know, it’s covered in shit and graffiti; or maybe it’s fitted with the latest robotic toilets that play music and wipe your ass for you. I may never know.

It’s such a trivial thing to think about but I’m choosing to take it as a sign of a larger problem. A problem that seems to be almost annual in my life.

I’m in a rut.

Not a murderous rut this time, I’m feeling quite good about that aspect of my life. I did some beautiful tapestry work with a blank canvas and an old-fashioned axe. I may sell it. See if it’s worth anything. Anonymously of course. Although the money would be nice. Besides, who would care how the art was created? Don’t those new-age types only care about how the art makes them feel?

Anyways, I’m not talking about that kind of rut this time. I’m in a career rut.

I’ve been working in the same field for 15 years and I’ve been with the same company for most of that time. I enjoy the luxury of my position and honestly there’s no point in changing it now; I’m just feeling unsatisfied.

Perhaps a little dissatisfaction is good. If I got my way every time I’d never have an excuse to kill.

And what kind of world would that be?

Just something to think about this week.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Wednesday, 14 September 2016

Your Mid-Week Update for 09/14/16

Did I ever tell you about the time Sandra was kidnapped?

I’ve probably blocked it out.

It was the first year she came to live with me so I was understandably stressed and overwhelmed. I remember dropping her off with no issue and then I went to pick her up at 3pm and the teacher said “oh, someone already picked her up. I think it was your sister.”

I was livid. How could her school be so negligent that they let a child go off with anyone they think might be a relative? That teacher has no idea how close she came to seeing her organs on the outside that day. She died a few years later for unrelated reasons but that day, I could not see straight let alone kill. I couldn’t focus on anything else. I kept calling her phone but it went straight to voicemail and I filled up her inbox with texts but nothing came of it. I almost had James put out an amber alert and I was dialing my sister in prison when I got a call from the parent of Sandra’s friend Clara.

Apparently the girls were having a sleepover and Sandra forgot to tell me. Then her phone died and she still didn’t think to call me. I couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night.  I let her have her sleepover and then when she got home the next day, I sat her down in the kitchen. I think that was the first time I’d ever yelled at her. It wouldn’t be the last time but that was a very pivotal moment for me and Sandra.

I will never forget those few hours when I thought someone was going to hurt my child. It was one of the worst days.

Oh how times have changed.

I’m telling you this story because I want to remind you to be careful. School is back in session and you can’t always be there for them. I have done a lot of horrible things in my life – few of which I regret – but I have never harmed a child. There are people out there who will.

Remember that there are people worse than me in the world. Keep your children safe this school year.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe