Wednesday, May 31, 2017

Write What You Know, Part 32


Original Preamble

This is my first draft for NaNoWriMo 2016 novel Write What You Know. It's only a rough draft with very minimal editing and will, more than likely, contain, typos, grammatical errors, plot holes, or conflicting descriptions. It also includes notes to myself and excerpts from the novel the MC is writing that I try to indicate through various formatting that doesn't always translate well with my limited html skills. Furthermore, this particular novel is... there's no delicate way to put this... this novel is fucked up. So, especially in this rough draft crazed sort of NaNoWriMo way of writing, it may be difficult to read or follow.  I'm still posting it here because I want to shed more light on the process of writing to encourage and inspire other writers or readers who are interested. To learn more about this project, or my daily NaNoWriMo postings, please read Day 1-7.


Additional Preamble

NaNoWriMo 2016 ended 6 months ago and I never finished releasing my rough draft, for various reason but chiefly that I was without internet service on my computer for three of those months. I've debated a lot about re-establishing these postings mostly because I don't really think there were readers waiting with baited breath for the rest of this hunk of junk rough ass draft. But then I remembered that the point of me doing this isn't for the number of readers but to inspire and to finish things. The internet is forever right? Even if it means nothing now, some internet archaeologist could dig this up 200 years from and say . . . I don't know something. Or maybe there's that one other person out there right now and this is exactly what they need. Like Feida Kahlo said:
       --I used to think I was the strangest person in the world but then I thought there are so many people in the world there must be someone just like me who feels bizarre...I hope that you are out there and you read this and know that yes it's true I'm here and I'm just as strange as you.-- (Wikiquote)
This is for you, other weirdos.



Write What You Know, Part 32
By Stephanie Thompson,  1, 496 words

Read: Part 1Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31

Everyone arrived at the house within minutes of each other. It would have been funny under any other circumstances. Cassandra came first, then Jennifer, Then Riley.
Cassandra had made it to the back of the house before Jennifer came in the front door. Helen hadn’t told her where in the house the goddamn money was and she was about to regret the decision to come here. Until she heard that voce.
“Hello? Cassie?”
She laughed to herself. She laughed at Helen. How did she survive at all when everything she did turned to shit, the exact opposite of what she intended. She wanted to keep her away from Jennifer and yet there she was in her living room calling for her.
“Honey, your home.” She said laughing and without leaving the room. She was didn’t want Jenny to see the state she was him. Her hands shook and sweat beaded on her brow,
“Where are you, Cassie?”
“You’re fine where you are. What are you doing here?”
“I came to find you I guess. I needed to say something, I think.”
“Is it an apology? Because if not I’m not interested.” 
“An apology?”
“Let me guess you don’t think you did anything wrong? You never, EVER think you’ve done anything wrong. So fucking blameless, you’d think you were a saint.”
“I’m not blameless. I’m not guilt free. I’ve done plenty of things wrong. But none of them to you. I did everything I could for you. I loved you.”
“You promised me forever. FOREVER. But you were hooking up with that little slut at that stupid store. And then once you got me locked up you ran around with everyone you could find. You had the audacity to lie to my face.”
“I never, ever cheated. There’s been no one for me before or since. You know there can’t be. YOu know that. You were the one who ruined forever,” she said then immediately regretted. 
Cassandra laughed bitterly. Maniacally. She came around the corner from the back of the house somewhere. She was outlined in darkness. Her breath came in ragged puffs like the Big ad Wolf. Jennifer could just make out the switchblade in her hand. The sound of it’s blade sliding out was unmistakable.
“You ungrateful bitch. You locked me up and left me alone to rot. IF that’s your idea of love, you’re more fucked up than I am.”
“You tried to kill me. And not a little bit.You tried hard. You wanted to kill me. You want to kill me now don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you? Why didn’t you do that two years ago? Why didn’t you do that last week? Why don’t you do it right now?”
“BECAUSE. . .”
Her scream echoed in the house. IT started raining outside. The loud rain that made everything sound like it had tin roof with it’s assault.
“I don’t just want you dead. I want your life in tatters. I want every scrap of dignity you worked for with your fake names and shitty stories to be made a mockery in print, like you did with my life. Then I want to kill you.”
“I didn’t mock you. It’s not even directly you. I immortalized what was special about us. I immortalized out love.”
“YOU KILLED ME!”
Jenny said nothing. Coming here was a mistake. She wasn’t going to get anywhere with Cassandra. Everything she said was just an excuse. She finally understood how all those doctors judges and cops felt when she would try to explain her actions. IT was bullshit or insanity to avoided consequences and responsibility. Cassandra used the books as an excuse for her hate, and used her suspicions and doubt to mistrust her, and deny herself the happiness she could have had.
“I lied to you once. Exactly one time. When we met in New York that time. I told you I was the same person. I told you kept the bracelet but I didn’t. I wasn’t the same person. I hadn’t been the same since you were so overwhelmed by hate that you tried to kill me not once but two ways at the same time.” So it was two lies at the same time and one charge. Just like you.” (Um, clear this the fuck up.)
“WHY DID YOU COME HERE? You’ve ruined everything again. You always ruin it.”


Detective Riley could here the women fighting from the other side of the door. He wanted to go in but the situation was so volatile he didn’t know what to do. So he backed away from the door and called  for back up, no lights no sirens. Then went back to listening because if something went down he would have to more as fast as physically possible to make sure it wasn’t a colossal fuck up. 

(I’m pretty sure this is some horrible coping but also did you forget it was raining? Because it definitely is and his ass should be soaked.)

“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sorry for that. She hadn’t ruined anything but her twisted revenge plot but she was sorry that she couldn’t help her now. That she couldn’t save her then, that Cassandra couldn’t love and Helen, poor silent Helen was trapped inside her somewhere.
“No you’re not.”
She suppressed a laugh how was she always trying to laugh at the most inappropriate times. IF she survived this maybe she would work on that. But the funny thing was, No one ever believed her.
In the time she was busy with trying not to laugh Cassandra rushed up the short hallway and stabbed her. Again.
She couldn’t stop the laugh this time.

Detective Riley made all the wrong decisions and was too late. That’s what Hutchinson said when he suspended him. No one died he told himself to try make himself feel better. And he saved who know’s how many lives by catching her in the act, he added when that didn’t work.
HE’d known he was playing with fire in his approach but there was nothing saying that a different approach would have had a different or worse outcome. Including both of them dead and Helen on the run again. He had to wait for back up.
The good news was that she confessed. She confessed a lot. No matter what her public defender tried to do or say. He’d get one thrown out and she said it again. She’d say to everyone and and anyone who’d listen. And anyway, even if she didn’t talk, there was the DNA on her knife. And all that evidence in the hotel room. She killed them all. Kept their (SOMETHINGS) 32 people in total. All across the country. She was a sensation. 
It was enough to make him sick. Enough to make him quit. He’d see how his suspension went first.


Cassie’s knife caught a few more of Jennifer’s organs this time. Including a lung. Got her left cheek and all her limbs too. She’d gotten a lot quicker and better at stabbing. She’d had a lot of practice apparently. But Detective Riley was on her before she could finish the job this time. He even caught a bit of her knife.
She’d given her that knife for their first Christmas in freedom. When it was still good. Because it was pretty and it’s power was hidden, like Helen. And she’d said that she felt defenseless against everything, even her own mind. She knew it wouldn’t help against Cassandra but she though if at least in everyday life she could feel less defenseless against the world then maybe she feel strong enough against Cassandra too. Turns out she was master of irony. (Or you know something witt-yish).
She was in the hospital for a long time healing. For three weeks. Three weeks she avoided tv because the only news was Cassandra and she couldn't’ look at her face over and over again. So she wrote. She wrote another ‘NRaged novel. The last one. The one where Nikki dies for good. Fans will be sad that Danny doesn’t come back but there was a reason she’d killed him off. That love couldn’t last. One of them had to end of dead sooner or later. Like all of Nikki’s lovers. And she could keep living in the past.
All of her books sold like hotcakes because of The Ripper case. On the next book tour she got the best rooms she’d ever had. 
So everyone knew all her secrets. They knew everything about her now. There was no holding it back, not with the way Cassandra talked. It wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. IT made interviews easier. To not have to keep up with all those lies. To tell the simple truth.
“So, tell us Jennifer, where did you get your ideas?”

“It’s the oldest advice in the book. I write what I know. Madness as love. Lies as Truth. And stab wounds.”


Thank you for reading!


Tuesday, May 30, 2017

Write What You Know: Eventually it Ends but now it's Part 31


Original Preamble

This is my first draft for NaNoWriMo 2016 novel Write What You Know. It's only a rough draft with very minimal editing and will, more than likely, contain, typos, grammatical errors, plot holes, or conflicting descriptions. It also includes notes to myself and excerpts from the novel the MC is writing that I try to indicate through various formatting that doesn't always translate well with my limited html skills. Furthermore, this particular novel is... there's no delicate way to put this... this novel is fucked up. So, especially in this rough draft crazed sort of NaNoWriMo way of writing, it may be difficult to read or follow.  I'm still posting it here because I want to shed more light on the process of writing to encourage and inspire other writers or readers who are interested. To learn more about this project, or my daily NaNoWriMo postings, please read Day 1-7.


Additional Preamble

NaNoWriMo 2016 ended 6 months ago and I never finished releasing my rough draft, for various reason but chiefly that I was without internet service on my computer for three of those months. I've debated a lot about re-establishing these postings mostly because I don't really think there were readers waiting with baited breath for the rest of this hunk of junk rough ass draft. But then I remembered that the point of me doing this isn't for the number of readers but to inspire and to finish things. The internet is forever right? Even if it means nothing now, some internet archaeologist could dig this up 200 years from and say . . . I don't know something. Or maybe there's that one other person out there right now and this is exactly what they need. Like Feida Kahlo said:
       --I used to think I was the strangest person in the world but then I thought there are so many people in the world there must be someone just like me who feels bizarre...I hope that you are out there and you read this and know that yes it's true I'm here and I'm just as strange as you.-- (Wikiquote)
This is for you, other weirdos.



Write What You Know, Part 31
By Stephanie Thompson,  1, 794 words

Read: Part 1Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30

She dragged herself to out of bed. IT was late in the afternoon she had plenty of sleep. Almost twelve hours. IT wasn’t like her but she didn’t feel like her she was dragging ass. And legs and head. She was dragging every part of her self to the sink where she confirmed her suspicions. The bandage was soaked with blood though mostly dried now. It’d stained the shits and spots on the floor. The sink still had the remnants of blood smears across the  porcelain. The razor hello had used was crusted over.
“You conniving, spineless fucker.” 
She threw lotions and potions at the mirror and screamed until both the mirror and voice cracked. Then she collapsed on the floor. Helen hadn’t done his eight years at least. Everyone treated it like a suicide attempt but it wasn’t that at all. It was Helen’s pathetic  attempt to tame Cassie’s efforts. She would have ben out of that fucking prison so much sooner if it wasn’t for her. IT’s amazing how much blood you can loose with out dying and how purely flat out exhausted it would leave you too.


“All right guys, here’s some more evidence I’ve dug up in the last 24 hours, Excuse me.” His phone was vibrating in his pocket. The caller ID shed no light on the caller so he declined the call.
“This is Helen Richards. She a 34 (or so) female acquaintance of Jennifer Tansom aka Christie Fields. According to Transcom Richards has had the cell phone discovered at Bronsons murder scene for the last two (or whatever) years. Helen Richards has two charges of attempted, including one against attempt against Ms. Transcom, so there is animosity there, which is why I believe it’s Helen who is behind the Ripper murders here and in other cities. She’s previously stalked Ms. Transcom and these murders are copycats of sorts from Christie Fields novels.”
His phone vibrate in short bursts this time. A text message. HE paused to check it out and the task force took it to start asking questions.
“Are you sure they aren’t in it together?”
“Something else”
“Another question here”
It’s me. Pick up. I have an idea.
“Now, Richards has been a fugitive for three ears. We have no idea where she is staying or what her intentions are, except that maybe she is planning on hurting Ms. Transcom. I have to make a call, so you guys start brainstorming ideas about how or where we might locate Helen Richards.”
Riley ducked out of the room and right into Leut. Hutchinson. “MY office detective.”
“Yeah just a minute,” he normally wouldn’t have said that but he didn’t want to delay talking to Jennifer any more than he already had.
“No, not just a minute. Right now.”
“Shit,” he said under his breath.
“What’s this I hear about a new suspect after we’ve already arraigned Christie Fields?”
“I did some routine checking on Ms. Fields statement and was able to confirm many of the facts she said. I’m inclined to believe her story. I found the Richards woman and her profile fits the murders much better.”
“But you haven’t cleared the Fields woman? 
“No sir, I still can’t find any witnesses to alibi her for any of the murders.”
“So she’s out on bail and we have another murder and you’re still pursuing Richards who nobody can put in this city. And not Fields.”
“Actually I can alibi Fields for last night.”
“Excuse me?”
“After find out more about Ms. Richards last night I was concern for Ms. Fields as it’s clear that Richards has been stalking her for some months and there was already past violence. I knew I wouldn’t get approval for a real detail so I watched her place myself. All night.”
Hutchinson eyed him suspiciously for a while after that. “All right detective. Carry on.”
“Thank you sir.”

Back in the day they would have said she was blowing up his phone. And she always wondered exactly how many pages or phone calls it would take to actually do that. Right now she was finding it more likely that she was going smash this phone into the pavement before she blew any one elses’ up. Then finally t rang.
“I think I know how to find Helen.”
“Wait how? What happened to change your mind?”
“My lawyer left. And I had an idea. And you believed me. I’m not even convince my lawyer believes me. But I had an idea.”
“Okay, what is it?”
“Is there any way to search like flight records or credit cards or hotel records for Nikki?” (Yeah seriously, is there?)
“Nikki? Nikki Vampyro? From your books?”
“Yes. No. Nikki Vigglio. That’s Nikki’s real name.”
“Her real name?”
“It. . . Just . . Nikki Viggilo. If she’s trying to get my attention, if she’d trying to copy or destroy Nikki from the books, that’s the name she will use.”
“What made you think of that?”
“We don’t have time to explain it (also I don’t know), can you do that search?”
“Let me call you back.”


Danny opened his gift. He went slower than she did, teasing her.
“Just open it,” she said, her heart in her throat. She really didn’t know if this was the right thing at all and she couldn’t handle the suspense any more.
His case was dark velvet too, black instead of blue. His was bejeweled silver too.
“Damn, you’re good at this gift giving thing.”
“Do you like it?”
He took it out, caressed the DD engraving, then pushed the button. The gleaming blade sprang out with a pop.
“Hell, yeah. I love it, “ he said.
She ambushed him with a hug as he twirled the switch blade behind her back.

If  it hadn’t been for Nikki Vigglio, her life would have been normal a long time ago. Where did she come from? Where did she go? Where did she come from Nikki Vigglio?

Riley searched in every record databases he could search on his magic cop computer that tells cops things on TV shows. A few flights cam up, including one within hours of Jennifer’s from where ever she came from before this. But there wasn’t much else except for the proprietor of a company named (SOMETHING). That company name sounded very very familiar to him. HE searched back through the murder locations. One of the buildings were owned by that company and three of the murders had taken place there.
It wasn’t suspicious at the time because it was a dilapidated flop house like all the other murder sites which were also owned by vaguely named companies waiting for the neighborhood to turn around. Now, it was a lead. Her grabbed his coat and almost barked orders at Gimlet and them in the task force room but thought better of it. This lead had come from the current suspect, not evidence. HE couldn’t explain it. But he could stake it out and see if Helen was staying there or would come back for some reason. Maybe even catch her in the act. She skipped the team and texted Jennifer instead.

She fought her way to the kitchen and a glass of water fortified with three sugar packets. On the fridge was a note with bloody finger prints. 
The money is at the house. Fare in freezer.
It said in Helen’s barely there shaky script. She wrote like an old woman.
“Goddamn you Helen.”
She gulped the water down then made another glass of the same concoction. The freezer was the one place she hadn’t looked because there wasn’t anything in there for her to hide it in. Nothing but the ice box, which she hadn’t even considered. Helen was good at doing the thing she hadn’t even considered. Almost as good as she was at crying and being useless.
This was unexpected for sure. This shaking near fainting from blood loss state. She shouldn’t be going out at all. She should just get a meal in a hotel restaurant and go back to sleep until she got her strength back. But she went out of spite. I had been her fuel for a decade. She was going to get her money and then she would take care of Helen.

Jennifer almost talked herself out of going. Almost but not quite. She knew if she stayed she would be safe. Detective Riley would send a team to sit on the house until Cassandra showed up. That would capture her and at the first sign of disrespect She would try to kill one of them or brag during interrogation. It didn’t matter how devious or sneaky she’d been these past few years as a fugitive, she was still herself at the center of it all. Any time they got caught as kids it was because of Cassandra’s bravado. She would be the same as an adult.
Jennifer was banking on it. Banking her life on it. Because once Cassandra was captured she’d never get to see her again. She’d never get closure. She’d never find out what was so wrong and so hateful that she was doing this to her. She need to find out, no matter what stupid end it led her too. Even if this still got brought back around to her and she spent the rest of her life back in a hospital or worse in jail. She needed to know.

Okay I hate normal Jenn without Nikki. In fact, I think I hate Jenn. Why did she show up. Where’s Christie? And Also Nikki? And Figure out something better for Nikki Vigglio because I don’t like this following pieces where I try to explain. It’s dumb.


Here’s a possible truth: Nikki was never hers. Nikki Vampyro was a fiction, always had been. Nikki Vigglio was another part of Helen. That’s a lot rewrites isn’t it. Truth has a way of fucking up a perfectly good fiction.
Jennifer wasn’t blameless. She’d shared all of Helen’s secrets with the world. But she did it under layers and layers of names and fictions and made up adventures and only because she missed her. She missed Helen so desperately, she made up stories like they did back in the hospital. Little adventures. She couldn’t help that she was could at it. She couldn’t help that people loved reading about it. She couldn’t help that after working two jobs for 4 years, the prospect of writing simple stories for large sums of money was too appealing to pass up.
Besides. Helen had tried to kill her. Tried to kill her by choking and stabbing her. And broke her heart in the process. She deserved this.


Jennifer is so undesirable this way. But truth is ugly.


Thank you for reading!


Monday, May 29, 2017

Write What You Know, Part 30


Original Preamble

This is my first draft for NaNoWriMo 2016 novel Write What You Know. It's only a rough draft with very minimal editing and will, more than likely, contain, typos, grammatical errors, plot holes, or conflicting descriptions. It also includes notes to myself and excerpts from the novel the MC is writing that I try to indicate through various formatting that doesn't always translate well with my limited html skills. Furthermore, this particular novel is... there's no delicate way to put this... this novel is fucked up. So, especially in this rough draft crazed sort of NaNoWriMo way of writing, it may be difficult to read or follow.  I'm still posting it here because I want to shed more light on the process of writing to encourage and inspire other writers or readers who are interested. To learn more about this project, or my daily NaNoWriMo postings, please read Day 1-7.


Additional Preamble

NaNoWriMo 2016 ended 6 months ago and I never finished releasing my rough draft, for various reason but chiefly that I was without internet service on my computer for three of those months. I've debated a lot about re-establishing these postings mostly because I don't really think there were readers waiting with baited breath for the rest of this hunk of junk rough ass draft. But then I remembered that the point of me doing this isn't for the number of readers but to inspire and to finish things. The internet is forever right? Even if it means nothing now, some internet archaeologist could dig this up 200 years from and say . . . I don't know something. Or maybe there's that one other person out there right now and this is exactly what they need. Like Feida Kahlo said:
       --I used to think I was the strangest person in the world but then I thought there are so many people in the world there must be someone just like me who feels bizarre...I hope that you are out there and you read this and know that yes it's true I'm here and I'm just as strange as you.-- (Wikiquote)
This is for you, other weirdos.



Write What You Know, Part 30
By Stephanie Thompson,  1, 862 words

Read: Part 1Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29

Her heart was annoyingly fluttery when he handed her her gift.
“Open yours first,” he said.
She wanted to argue but he was so happy and expectent looking at her. She ripped the wrapping paper to a plain cardboard box. Inside that box was a white gift box. Inside that was a dark blue vevlet box.
“Matruska boxes, she said like a pussy. Cracking a joke, afraid of opening the obvious jewlery box. She sat to long just looking at it’s soft outside afraid to open up it’s secrets. Like usually he saw right down to her.
“It’s not going to bite. OPen it.”

Then she does and theres a bracelet in it and it’s beautiful and makes her feel shit but I can’t think of anything to say about it right now. Like I just want to say it was a pretty normal diamond tennis bracelet but that sounds boring and shiny but not heart felt or beautiful. Maybe it doesn’t have to be unique or extraordinary but still bring her to tears because the kind of gifts she usually got was nothing. Or violence. Or a fuck.

“I saw it in the window and I know, I know it’s not like typically you but it was beautiful and still and bright and . . .when I saw it I thought of you.”
She could say nothing to that. Every word she thought to say sound dead and dull in her mind. Brown lumps of clay next to the bracelet. Next to Danny.
“Do you like it?”
She couldn’t even say yes. She couldn’t say a thousand times yes. She just looked at him with tears in her eyes. But he didn’t look disappointed
He smiled. “Let me help you put it on.”
The boxes and wrapping paper fell to the floor. The cold . . . Gold let’s say. . .contrasted with the warmth of her skin where he touched her. (You're a fucking genius aren’t you)
“There,” he said. “It’ll go perfectly with your chains and leather braces.”
SHe laughed, the first sound she’d made since opening the gift. “YOu’re a poet Danny Dracon.” She said inexplicably. She put her hands on his face and kissed him. 


“That’s still better than a police file,” Riley said.
Somehow that made her feel a little better.
“Chris. . . Jennifer I don’t think this is a good idea, you two pairing up. Anything you say to him can be used against, no matter the context. Plus if he does find her, they could even say that you knew where she was all along.”
“That’s not what I’m trying to do here,” he said.
“That’s nice detective but as you can see, my client is in shape to catch this woman for you. Now if Helen gets in touch with us or shows up on the door step, you will be the first one we call.”
Detective Riley pulled out his badge and from a pocket pulled a card. “Jennifer, call me if you change you mind.”
“That’s enough, Detective.” Lyndsey was on her feet ushering Riley out. Jennifer was staring at his card.
“Listen, don’t worry about him, let him work his own case. But this is good news for us. Even if the DA or judge won’t listen to reason, having a cop , the lead detective on the Ripper task force no less, would be great coup at trial.”
“I’m going to rest, “ she said. 
“Ok, I had more I wanted to go over with you but I’m going to head back to the office instead. Get some things rolling on this new development and just try to stay calm in the meantime.”
Jennifer took the detectives card upstairs with her.

Cassandra woke up in the afternoon and something was wrong. She didn’t know what it was though. Not at first. Then she saw the bandage.

I’m sorry about this morning. Can you send me one of those assistants you talked about. With a cell phone I still can’t find mine. Also, another carton of smokes, some vodka, and I don’t know some sandwiches from Mickey, I don’t care what flavor. 

I understand, you’re under a lot of stress right now. I’ll send Kylie over.

She only wanted the cell phone but she didn’t want Stella to know that. She had plenty of cigarettes, she didn’t want alcohol, and she figured if she asked for some sandwiches she could get the phone with some urgency.
She needed to call Detective Riley right away. She had an idea of how they could track down Cassandra. (Really, that’s amazing because I don’t)

Riley was in semi high spirits until he got into the office. HE had a feeling Jennifer would help her behind her Laura’s back and for the first time since he’d been put on the case he felt like he was on real solid footing now. Then he got in to the precinct just when the call came in. There was another Ripper body found.

The truth was she hadn’t kept the bracelet. She did need the money. It cost a lot to start over. More than she expected. More than she made on two part time jobs between college classes. So she pawned the bracelet. She had no choice.

Hold on. IT’s like I want to things two happen. Like I want her to have pawned it and I want her to give it to Cassandra. If she gave it to her then she could leave it this last crime scene to further implicate Jen. But she hadn’t intended to leave evidence the first time. In fact, she doesn’t want that bitch to get causght by the cops. She want’s her to be investigated but she mostly wants the pressure to break her and then murder her at the end. Then again the pressure would build up pretty intensely if they found that bracelet. She had to have some plan for the cops to go towards Christie if she wanted her to break down so bracelet it is. Ok. So how does she get.

IT can’t be the original. Christie has to pawn that. She has to. So Helen cant have it because Helen was in hospital jail until three years ago and three years ago Christie was already a succesful author. So Christie has to buy a replacement one and then give THAT to Cassandra the same day as the phone. Well put together like that sounds like too much of a coincidence. Too uch evidence in Helen’s hands that she couldn’t count on. Then again she isn’t really counting on things she being guided sort or feels guided. So maybe she doesn’t have an ultimate plan until she has these pieces. Ok so Christie gives her the phone and the replacement bracelet with her DNA all over it. So go back to that scene and add that. Congrats for figuring that out.

It was either live on the streets and have no food or pawn the bracelet. But when she got her first advanced from ‘NRaged, she bought a replacement. BEcause despite the fact that it was given to her buy a person who tried to kill her, despite that she couldn’t say she still loved and her and figured she would never see her again, she couldn’t not have a reminder. Something besides fallible memories and Nikki VAmpyro to remember the love of her life with. She need the bracelet and barring that she need one similar.
SO that not so serendipitous meeting on the streets of New York when she gave Cassandra the bracelet. It wasn’t the real one. It was a platinum replacement at about five times the cost. She thought that once she’d pawned the symbol of their love, maybe Cassandra could do the same since she needed it. IT’s what she did instead of saying good bye.

“What do you think, Riley? We pick up the crazy again?”
“It wasn’t her.”
“What do you mean, you don’t think this is the ripper?”
“No, It’s not . . . The Ripper isn’t her, it’s someone else.”
“YOu mean her so called friend with her phone?”
“Yes. That’s exactly who I’m talking about.” 
“YOu can’t be serious.”
“She’s a real person, she exists and get this, she’s got two attempted murder charges already and is wanted to escaping the custody of the mental institution where they locked her up.”
Gimlet had no response which made a nice change for Riley.
“Who thought called this one in?”
“Um . . An anonymous tip.”
“Who labeled this a ripper case? I mean it doesn’t have any of the hallmarks. It’s not a stabbing, there’s no slashing or mutilation. How do we know that somebody just didn’t like their coffee?”
“The tip said she saw the woman from the papers back here.”
There wasn’t a doubt in his mind who that tip was.
“Where did this helpful tipper call from?”
“Well, it’s anonymous.”
“Sure.”
“Boss, you sure it’s not this Transcom woman?”
“Gimlet, I was outside her place all night, nobody came in, nobody went out.”
Some other detective (I know there’s two of these fuckers but I can’t remember the other dumb asses name) comes up with a bag of glitter it looked like.
“This was found near by.”
“What is it?”
“Looks like a bracelet. Techs say they might get the wearers DNa from it. Look like the clasp broke and got stepped on in the struggle.”
“Okay, well, it can’t hurt but I have a pretty good idea of who’s it is.”
“Let’s wrap this up and head back to the task force room. We’ll, get our ducks in a row and start chasing in the direction of this anonymous caller.”


When Kylie showed up she did want the sandwiches, and cigarettes and vodka just as much as the cell phone. She took it all from her arms then shut the door in her face. She had no time or mental capacity to stand for even impolite small talk.
She went back to the kitchen where the closest she could get to following the no smoking rule was to smoke in there with the patio door open. She’d lose her deposit but she didn’t care. Breaking news said there was another murder, she didn’t have time to care about deposits or sit outside.
She scrolled through manuscripts on her desktop. 

(Have you noticed that Nikki has disappeared completely from this novel I don’t know how to make her relevant any more. I think Nikki is a figment of her imagination. USed to be a delusion but was cured of that or medicated enough that she was just imagining it like an old crutch. Plus she can’t let her go because of the novels. But I don’t know I just don’t know how to shove her in here atm)

Skimming plot points and characters. She was refreshing her memory to help track down Cassandra before it was too late. 

She mixed the vodka with the white win. She lit another cigarette and she ripped open her cell phone packaging. In between all that she took bites of the London broil sandwich and kept scrolling  through her own words.


Thanks for Reading!


Sunday, May 28, 2017

Still Posting: Write What You Know, Part 29


Original Preamble

This is my first draft for NaNoWriMo 2016 novel Write What You Know. It's only a rough draft with very minimal editing and will, more than likely, contain, typos, grammatical errors, plot holes, or conflicting descriptions. It also includes notes to myself and excerpts from the novel the MC is writing that I try to indicate through various formatting that doesn't always translate well with my limited html skills. Furthermore, this particular novel is... there's no delicate way to put this... this novel is fucked up. So, especially in this rough draft crazed sort of NaNoWriMo way of writing, it may be difficult to read or follow.  I'm still posting it here because I want to shed more light on the process of writing to encourage and inspire other writers or readers who are interested. To learn more about this project, or my daily NaNoWriMo postings, please read Day 1-7.


Additional Preamble

NaNoWriMo 2016 ended 6 months ago and I never finished releasing my rough draft, for various reason but chiefly that I was without internet service on my computer for three of those months. I've debated a lot about re-establishing these postings mostly because I don't really think there were readers waiting with baited breath for the rest of this hunk of junk rough ass draft. But then I remembered that the point of me doing this isn't for the number of readers but to inspire and to finish things. The internet is forever right? Even if it means nothing now, some internet archaeologist could dig this up 200 years from and say . . . I don't know something. Or maybe there's that one other person out there right now and this is exactly what they need. Like Feida Kahlo said:
       --I used to think I was the strangest person in the world but then I thought there are so many people in the world there must be someone just like me who feels bizarre...I hope that you are out there and you read this and know that yes it's true I'm here and I'm just as strange as you.-- (Wikiquote)
This is for you, other weirdos.



Write What You Know, Part 29
By Stephanie Thompson,  1, 651 words

Read: Part 1Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28


Jennifer had woken up that morning with a rocky stomach. She forgoed the coffee Stella had brewed and the bacon and eggs she made and went straight for dried toast. She probably would’ve taken a bloody mary too if one was available but there wasn’t and she wasn’t going to make one.
“HOw do you feel this morning?” Stella asked. “Better?”
“About what exactly?”
“I guess, the state of affairs. About the case, about being arrested, about everything. You haven’t really said much to about.”
“I’m about as fine as I’ve always been Stella. It’s a bed of fucking roses.”
“Do you have anyone that you know you can call?”
“What do you mean by that?”
Sawyer had sworn, guaranteed that everything she told her was confidential that she would discuss it with no one else. Not even Stella, Not even her team unless she deemed it absolutely necessary.
“I mean, family, friends. Don’t you have anyone who can be here?”
“You have to get back to work?”
“No it’s not . . I mean, yes eventually I can’t stay here day and night and I have to  go back to work and my house and my life but. We have a professional relationship, we’re close, we’re a team and I can get you the physical things you need but. . . These are some bad times, hard times. You need the moral support of an old friend or something.”
Jennifer laughed. She couldn’t help it, the same way she couldn’t help it when Cassandra was choking her to death on the floor of a state run hospital. Love hurts. The friend Stella wanted her to call was the one who was doing this to her. Not that she was really a tower of strength in the first place. She saw that now. Helen had been a tower of sand built over a pit of spikes. She fell along time ago, Helen crumbled, and Jennifer was just finding the bottom now.
Stella had no outward reaction just watched her with close eyes. Close eyes like the detective. And like the doctors use to. Looking for the cracks.
“I have nothing Stella.”
She thought she would say something more but nothing else came. Like she’d finally found the truth she’d been lying about this whole time and it was nothing.

Knock Knock Knock

Stella left when Sawyer arrived. She had a feeling she wouldn’t be seeing Stella again.
Sawyer laid out files and books on the dining room table. “Have seat Christie. I have good news and bad news.”
She wanted to correct her name but in the grand scheme of things it didn’t matter. She had nothing she was nothing it didn’t matter what she was called now.
“Good news is that early signs would appear that you’re right. Helen looks like a viable alternative suspect who can cast reasonable doubt in your jury’s minds. The bad news is that she wasn’t let go. She escaped.”
Jennifer laughed just like she had with Stella in the kitchen.
And just like Stella, Sawyer gave no appearance of noticing it. “About a year before the last time you saw her. She lied to you and nobody knows where she is right. I mean besides in New York as of last Wednesday. Since then, nobody knows.”
She wasn’t laughing now. She was somber. Deeply somber. Low. She hadn’t had swings like that since her hospital days. High low High low High low.
“So, she knew. She knew that this would happen when I saw her. I mean she planned it. She was following me then and she knew she would kill all those people. She knew she would tear apart my life. She knew.” Low, low, and lower still. IT wasn’t as much as swing now as an elevator with no safety brakes. “She lied too.”



By the time Christmas morning came, there crummy apartment looked like Christmas hard barfed all over it. The tree practically disappeared behind the ornaments and popcorn strings. The walls and ceilings were drapped with glittery paper chains, they even had Christmas pajamas of a sort. She wore one of his flannel tops and he had the matching flannel bottoms. 
They cuddled under a blanket watching the heatless Yule log on TV. They made crumbs of the few cookies they got at the next day price from the bakery. A cold pale light tried to shine through the frosted windows but she’d never felt warmer or safer. They’d stayed up all nigh just being together, not speaking, in the dark.
“Merry Christmas,” he said when he noticed the dawn too. “Let’s open presents.”
“I just want to stay like this,” she said, unexpectedly. Christmas had made her down right mushy. She knew it was more than Christmas though, it was Danny. HE had made her dangerously soft hearted.
“Don’t you want to know what I got you?” He said.
She gave in. “”Yeah, okay, then.”
It was very cold when he got up.

Riley was half way through the second novel and on his second night of no sleep when Sawyer finally showed up at Christie’s brownstone. It wasn’t a moment too soon really because his car smelled like Red Bull cans, and greasy hamburger bags, which was a specific combination akin to vomit and he couldn’t roll down his window or get out until the lawyer showed up.


Knock Knock Knock

“”What are you doing here, Detective?” She heard Lindsey say.
From the dining room she couldn’t hear Detective Riley’s response.
Jennifer couldn’t bring her self to answer the door. Not that she was scared. She didn’t think it would be Cassandra. She didn’t care if it was. She actually might have welcomed that. It wasn’t even that she didn’t want to. She just couldn’t. It was like someone had slipped heroin in her toast. It was actually the way Helen had said her silent spells were like. She was there and conscious but she wasn’t in control of anything.
Lyndsey returned with the detective and now she wished she could know what Riley said or whatever he’d done to manage that.
“Remember Christie, you don’t have to say anything to him. You’re under no obligation to respond and my advice would be to not to. Let me answer any questions and just listen.”
“Jennifer,” the name came out of her like an ill timed burp.
“What’s that?”
“You can call me Jennifer.”
“Okay, let’s just listen to the detective.”
Riley didn’t sit down, he didn’t look around, he didn’t have any pleasantries. HE look right at Jennifer and said “I believe you, Jennifer.”

There weren’t many presents under the tree. One for each of them. She hadn’t known what to get him and he refused to tell her. He kept saying that old line “it’s the thought that counts” she jokingly said that she thought about punching him if he said that again. 
She had tried and struggled with gift ideas. Ties and socks, razors and snacks seem to be what the commercials tried to sell her. Magazines tried to sell gadgets of all sorts from tech to the kitchen. Whiskey stones for the scotch connoisseur the latest smart watch for the tech geek. But none of those things were quite right. The whole ordeal actually brought her a lot of anxiety which was anxiety worthy itself given that she wasn’t prone to it in the first place. She only wanted to show him how she felt about him, how she’d never felt like anybody else before. It would have been easier for her to just tell him if only the words would come out right. “I love you, dummy” didn’t belie the full depth of her emotion.
Frustrated in her millionth boutique she’d really wish she’d put a more firm kaibosh on this stupid Christmas thing. And just before she was going to give up entirely. Maybe get him a card and some whiskey stones. A card where she could say what she really meant and the stones she didn’t have to least say she tried. Just before she left the store she saw it.
It was the way all the movies said you were suppose to fall in love except she was already in love and this was just a christmas gift.
(I’m writing so much to just explain this one stupid fucking bracelet.)



“What?”
Detective Riley got a hold of himself and stopped talking like he was starring in tv movie. “I followed up on those leads you gave, I did my reading, and I think I know what you were trying to say. I think Helen is behind all of this and I believe you’re innocent.”
High again. So high she was dizzy and didn’t know what to so.
“If that’s true detective I’d like to know when the charges against my client will be dropped,” Sawyer said being all lawyer like.
(To be honest, I don’t think this up to Detective Riley so she probably wouldn’t be asking this and would instead say thank you very much but now she need to get paperwork in order to file for dropping charges given new evidence or something. Then again what in the fuck is she even exactly charged with. Could she be charged with murder at this point? Who fucking knows right. RESEARCH MOTHER FUCKER)
“I’m actually focusing on trying to track Helen down. Because I don't’ think any DA, court, or judge (WHAT THE FUCK eVER) will be swayed by much more than a significant break like actually catching Helen.” (Bitch, this is repetitive as fuck).
“Well, Detective, she’s not here.”
Jennifer was liking Lyndsey more and more.
“Obviously but I was hoping that Jennifer could actually help me with that. She seemed to be the only person who knows who Helen is what she’d like where she might be or what she’s trying to do.”
Then low again. Low and fast that it was dizzying in a different way. In a way that made her want to cry and throw up.

“I didn’t know her at all.”


Thanks for Reading!


Saturday, May 27, 2017

Write What You Know, Part 28

Original Preamble

This is my first draft for NaNoWriMo 2016 novel Write What You Know. It's only a rough draft with very minimal editing and will, more than likely, contain, typos, grammatical errors, plot holes, or conflicting descriptions. It also includes notes to myself and excerpts from the novel the MC is writing that I try to indicate through various formatting that doesn't always translate well with my limited html skills. Furthermore, this particular novel is... there's no delicate way to put this... this novel is fucked up. So, especially in this rough draft crazed sort of NaNoWriMo way of writing, it may be difficult to read or follow.  I'm still posting it here because I want to shed more light on the process of writing to encourage and inspire other writers or readers who are interested. To learn more about this project, or my daily NaNoWriMo postings, please read Day 1-7.


Additional Preamble

NaNoWriMo 2016 ended 6 months ago and I never finished releasing my rough draft, for various reason but chiefly that I was without internet service on my computer for three of those months. I've debated a lot about re-establishing these postings mostly because I don't really think there were readers waiting with baited breath for the rest of this hunk of junk rough ass draft. But then I remembered that the point of me doing this isn't for the number of readers but to inspire and to finish things. The internet is forever right? Even if it means nothing now, some internet archaeologist could dig this up 200 years from and say . . . I don't know something. Or maybe there's that one other person out there right now and this is exactly what they need. Like Feida Kahlo said:
       --I used to think I was the strangest person in the world but then I thought there are so many people in the world there must be someone just like me who feels bizarre...I hope that you are out there and you read this and know that yes it's true I'm here and I'm just as strange as you.-- (Wikiquote)
This is for you, other weirdos.



Write What You Know, Part 28
By Stephanie Thompson,  1, 818 words

Read: Part 1Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27

Cassandra did not take long to find Helen at all. It was the fastest she’d ever been found. It was the fire, to bright to hide in.
YOu have been a very, very bad girl.
I haven’t. I haven’t done anything.
No, I don’t have the time or patience for the innocent act now. Don’t you see, my plan is almost to fruition now anyway and you’ve yet to stop. Even hiding the money even ditching the phone. That by the way, was very, very clever. Smarter than you’ve been in a long time.  I don't’ even know how you did it but I don’t think it worked the way you wanted it too. It led the cops straight to her. Made front page news, It actually helped because it’s only a matter of time before they rip her reputation to shreds. Before the truth comes out. Before her house of normal cards falls apart and she’s right back where she deserves to be, fucking nothing at all.
I didn’t do that, I didn’t do anything.
Stop fucking lying to me.  You’re not any good at it. Where the fuck is my money? Where’s my purse?
I didn’t do it. I didn’t do anything.
Oh, I see, you think I still need you. That I can’t exist without you. You some how believe that you’re the core and if I snuff you out we both go out like a candle. That we’ll be just an empty shell and rot away in a hotel without doing any more harm to anyone.
She sat on the bed staring intently at the soiled linens. Flames licked up all around them. She said nothing because it didn’t matter what she said. Cassandra always thought and did what she wanted with little to no input from Helen.
You’re at my mercy. You know that right? I mean, I didn’t think you were that stupid? Do you think I’d be able to get anything done if you were the core, if you could reassert yourself at any time. I keep you around for the boring stuff. You’re perfectly useless otherwise. I could snuff you out right now and it would make no difference. You make no difference.
I know where the money is.
It wasn’t a threat or a boast it wasn’t said with any confidence at all. It gave no pleasure to have whatever power that it might have given her. It was merely the truth plain and simple.
You fucking meek worthless shit.
She put her hands around Helen’s throat and squeezed. She put up no resistance. Not physical anyway. She looked up to meet Cassie’s eye. That was the only physical action that showed that anything was different. She didn’t pull at her hands or even make choking sounds. She just stared back at her.
The whole room was on fire. The floor the walls. The ceiling. Cassandra was stand in the thick of. She was inside the fire. Helen only wished they could burn at all.

Jennifer took her pills with a bottle of wine that night. What was she surviving for anyway?

Fine. Don’t fucking tell me where it is. I can finish this without the money without a phone without anything. That’s how I got here in the first place.
Cassandra went back to the real world and left Helen to cry in the burning house alone. It was what she was best at after all. 


They said good bye on the street outside the cafe where they’d spent most of the afternoon. Christie kissed Cassandra on the cheek. There was no warmth or reciprocation from her her at all. The only gesture made was to briefly move her fingers up her wrist, almost like it was an accidentally brush of her fingers even though Christie didn’t that’s what it was at all.
“You kept it,” Cassandra said. 
Christie wasn’t expecting that. She didn’t even know what she was talking about at first. She pulled back from the embrace and looked at her wrist. 
“Of course. OF course, I kept it. It was a gift from the woman I love.”
“I just thought that you would have gotten rid of it. It was worth a lot of money, I’m sure you could have used the cash.”
It was the gentlest Cassandra had spoken to her all day.
“No, of course not,” she lied.
And Cassandra knew it. She didn’t know exactly how or in what way she was lying but she was.
“You’re so sweet,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did to you. To us.” Cassandra could lie too.
“No don’t. . .” She started then changed her mind. “I never blamed you. I just wanted you to get better.”
“Good bye, Jen, “ Cassandra said. 
Then she turned and left. She walked into the crowd and disappeared even though she had been watching her. Christie didn’t leave. She stayed too long in that one spot.She didn’t want her too leave but she couldn’t chase her down and she couldn’t go back to where ever she had been going in the first place before getting waylaid by the past. She was stuck there knowing that something was wrong but she didn’t know what. Maybe it was the incredible sadness in her heart. She’d spent all day lying to the love of her life when what she’d wanted to do was take her home, wrap her up in her arms stay like that forever and ever. The way they used to talk about. They way they used to lay together in their starter apartment. The way it had happened in the hospital. But instead she’d lied and she knew, despite everything, despite the phone and the conversation of the day, despite the love still being in her heart at least, she knew she’d never see her again. And all she’d done was lie.

The little tree they put up in the postage stamp living room looked sad and pathetic. It’s dry needles scratched up her arms and it’s pine aroma sickened her.
“This is so stupid, Danny. Why are we doing this?”
You couldn’t get the smile off his face today. Even elbow deep in the stupid scratchy tree wrapping it up in lights.
“It’s Christmas, Nikki.” 
“We’re not kids, Dracon.” He was still smiling. “Well, I’m not anyway. This is isn’t a tv special. The days aren’t cozy and bright. It’s dark it’s grey it’s fucking cold and we haven’t been good this ear. Santa isn’t going to bring us presents.”
“C’mon it isn’t about that. I’m not naive and delude about the season just like I’m not deluded about you. I know you don’t get it but . . . Christmas is about love.”
“It’s abso-fucking-lutely not,” she said.
“Nikki, it is. It’s the time of year when you hold the ones a love a little closer against the night, against the cold.” He plugged the lights in and came over to her. He put his arm around her waist. “Where magic comes from a few extra lights and mugs of warm drinks. And you get a chance to show that person you love some extra love too.”
Nikki for once didn’t argue. She wasn’t buying it either but the sentiment was nice and it was sweet. It was better than nice and sweet actually, it was genuine. Then suddenly that stupid tree didn’t look so stupid. It was just a tree with lights but it was also something more. It was something from Danny to her. He had given Nikki Christmas. And while it didn’t mean much to her, it meant a lot to him, which meant a lot to her.
“So, are there decorations now or something?”


Detective Riley sat in an unmarked car with tinted windows and read on is Kindle. 
The house where Christie was staying now was on a quite street in a quiet borough (How does NYC work anyway?). Most of the time he was the only movement on the street and that was only to swipe left for the next page in his book in which he was so engrossed that he basically forgot he was in an unsanctioned stakeout.
A parade marching band could walk up this street, right next to his car and he wouldn’t have noticed. It wasn’t just that ‘NRaged was so good it overrode all of his cop training and instincts or the alertness that several red Bulls and a venti coffee brought but because it was the key he’d been looking for. The key to understand the case. Christie was right. She did know something. Every Ripper victim, even from the other cities were showing up in this book. 
{YOU REALLY SHOULD KNOW THIS BUT IS IT CHRONOLOGICAL? HOW MANY TOTAL VICTIMS ARE THERE. IS IT METHOD OR JUST PHYSICAL? OR IS A CERTAIN SOMETHING LIKE OCCUPATION OR IDK, HOW IS IT OBVIOUS THAT THIS IS HOW THEY ARE CHOSEN BUT NOT SO OBVIOUS THAT NO ONES MADE THE CONNECTION BEFORE?}

She went off script again. She had to. Thanks to Helen things were escalating faster than she expected. She out in the day again and she still hated it. She went back to the library and waited for what’s his face to show up again. She watched his boring ass all day. She followed him to the cafe where he worked but she didn’t go in this time. She leaned against the building across the street and watched him work from the outside. It was so brightly it it wasn’t even difficult.
People passed her all night long and didn’t notice her. No one noticed her. It was something she noticed early on. She didn’t know why, they noticed her when she wanted to be notice but on the whole people walked passed her, lost her in a crowd, forgot she was there very easily. What else could she do but use it to her advantage. So he didn’t see her either.
He didn’t see her watching him. He didn’t see her waiting for him behind the restaurant. He didn’t see or hear her when she grabbed him by the dumpsters just after the store closed. He didn’t see her after she’d already caved the back of his skull. He was on the ground then, she on top of him and he had no choice but to look at him.
“You, you,” he said or tried to say. “You were nice.”
“We’re all someone else underneath. We are all liars on top and someone else underneath.”
She choked this one. She was very off script but he was like the last one. She needed to kill him but didn’t really wanted to. She was being forced to do it. Jennifer made her do it. It was Jennifer’s fault.

“It’s all her fault,” she said, banging his head against the cement with each word.


Thanks for reading!


Friday, May 26, 2017

Write What You Know, Part 27

Original Preamble

This is my first draft for NaNoWriMo 2016 novel Write What You Know. It's only a rough draft with very minimal editing and will, more than likely, contain, typos, grammatical errors, plot holes, or conflicting descriptions. It also includes notes to myself and excerpts from the novel the MC is writing that I try to indicate through various formatting that doesn't always translate well with my limited html skills. Furthermore, this particular novel is... there's no delicate way to put this... this novel is fucked up. So, especially in this rough draft crazed sort of NaNoWriMo way of writing, it may be difficult to read or follow.  I'm still posting it here because I want to shed more light on the process of writing to encourage and inspire other writers or readers who are interested. To learn more about this project, or my daily NaNoWriMo postings, please read Day 1-7.


Additional Preamble

NaNoWriMo 2016 ended 6 months ago and I never finished releasing my rough draft, for various reason but chiefly that I was without internet service on my computer for three of those months. I've debated a lot about re-establishing these postings mostly because I don't really think there were readers waiting with baited breath for the rest of this hunk of junk rough ass draft. But then I remembered that the point of me doing this isn't for the number of readers but to inspire and to finish things. The internet is forever right? Even if it means nothing now, some internet archaeologist could dig this up 200 years from and say . . . I don't know something. Or maybe there's that one other person out there right now and this is exactly what they need. Like Feida Kahlo said:
       --I used to think I was the strangest person in the world but then I thought there are so many people in the world there must be someone just like me who feels bizarre...I hope that you are out there and you read this and know that yes it's true I'm here and I'm just as strange as you.-- (Wikiquote)
This is for you, other weirdos.



Write What You Know, Part 27
By Stephanie Thompson,  1, 651 words

Read: Part 1Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26

“No. She didn’t say anything. But she’s a very good actor.”
“Okay, this is a very good start. I’ll get my team trying to track down Helen. We’re also going to work on finding your phone, and I’ll bring you a copy of your itinerary and maybe that can help you cut through the travel fog to remember what you did when and who with. Then tomorrow. . .” She paused for a moment. She looked up from her notes and scheduling. She looked at Christie and patted her hand. “Tomorrow we’re going to talk about how we approach your past in court.”
Her sincere desire to help, the touches of caring almost made her feel better for a second. But then she ripped it all away. How to deal with her past in court? She didn’t want to deal with it. She didn’t want to mention it, bring it up, tell anyone. Her center froze like her core being had been replaced with a tube of ice.
“Is that really necessary, don’t worry we’ll be well beyond prepped for any implications, tactics, or cross examinations they might try”
“No I mean, why does this have to come out? Shouldn’t all the doctor stuff be private? Shouldn’t my old name, my past actions be irrelevant? They are all juvenile records.”
“I’m sorry Christie but the cat is out of the bag and we can’t put the genie back in the bottle. The prosecutor is no fool. He’s definitely going to bring it up in court, even if we can get it suppressed for being prejudicial (or whatever) HE’ll hint at some or or some other type of fancy legalese footwork to mention it and we will have to deal with it in whatever form it takes.”
Christie was listening and not listening at the same time. A  loud hum filled her ears and the thump-thump of her heart almost drowned out Sawyer’s words. No matter what happened now, it was all over. Christie Fields was dead and Cassandra hasn’t even need a shiv (OR SOMETHING ShARP) this time.


“God, I really thought I’d never see you again.”
“Yeah, well. . .”
“I can’t tell you how sad that made me.”
The bitch didn’t look sad. She looked happy as a mother fucking clam. Cassandra want to jump on her, just like the time they were together, and rip her scalp off. There wouldn’t be any burly orderlies to save Jennifer this time. She had switch blade in pocket this time not a (WHATEVER SHARP THING), she was sure she could cause real damage this time, get her blade deeper than the liver, maybe even actually kill her. She could see it all in front of her more real than the actual reality. Jennifer’s bloody scalp flapping ath back of her skull blood dripping down her face as she said whatever disgusting platitude she was saying now. Blood splattered on the guests around them. Blood soaking in to the table cloth as she reached across and took her hand. Jennifer smiled and blood poured out of her mouth. Cassandra smiled back.


She didn’t expect to be holding hands with Cassandra today. She didn’t expect but it felt so natural, just like that first time. It just happened and then it was and Christie couldn’t imagine the reunion being any different than how it was.
“So tell me everything, tell me all you’ve been up to.”

She had been smoking on the patio ever since Sawyer left. The sun was set now. Her eyes and nose produced a constant stream of fluids because of the bitter, seething cold. Stella, who was sleeping on the couch for the second night in a row, brought her out a blanket and some wine.
“I really wish you would come inside, Christie. Lindsey made it sound like you guys had a really productive afternoon, what’s wrong?”
She shrugged in response and drank the wine like a thirsty man in the desert. Stella went back in side shivering.
You’re going to freeze to death out here.
Good.
It’ll be doing her work for her.
There isn’t much more for her to do. She’s got what she wanted, I’ll have nothing. I’l have no one. There will only be me and her.
You have me.
Well, you’re the reason I have no one else. You’re the reason I can’t be me in the first place.
Jeez, don’t take that tone about it.
Wine sloshed in the oversized glass as shivered, drank, and smoke in the freezing darkness.
Look, I know we don’t always get along but, you don’t deserve this. We loved her, we gave her everything, and it’s just like you told me, we did what we did to survive. To live. We deserve that as much as anyone, as much as Helen or Cassandra.
How will we survive this?


Hel-en. Hel-en. IT’s time to come out now. IT’s time for your reckoning too.
There was a small space. A tiny, hidey hole where she could scrunch down, become tiny herself and hide. She didn’t know what the original purpose was in the house, it had always been there, like it was made just for Helen to hide in. And as long as it was dark, she could stay there. Cassie hadn’t found her yet. But it wasn’t dark any more. It was bright, blazing hot. It was red all around her. The whole place was burning down.

“This is some dumb stupid conversation I should really write between Cassandra and Christie in this cafe but I really don’t want to figure it out or write it. I don’t know how many times or ways I can say that Christie was ignorantly happy and Cassandra was sullen and distant. I don’t really think the conversation adds much to the story but I know I want it to be there. I want it to be there I just don’t know what it is yet so like so many thing in this part of the book, this is just a place holder for future better words.” This is maybe even in the cell store. In fact yeah, that makes damn good sense like maybe something like this.

She filled out the forms without thinking anything about it. Writing her name was as automatic to her now as breathing.
“Who’s Christie Fields?” Cassandra asked.
“Um. . . Well I am.”
“I thought you were legit now, Jen. Straight and narrow. Normal.”
“Well, I mean it’s not anything illegal. It’s just that, well you know the,” she looked around for the sales person or any other shoppers nearby but they were all busy doing something else. “With the drugs and arrest reports it was hard to leave that all  behind without, without anew name. So I legally changed mine. It’s no big deal. Well, except all my money is in that name,” she laughed but it rang false in her own ears. It felt weird to explain it to her, like it was a lie. And she supposed on a level it was a lie. She was lying to her which she had never done before. And she didn’t know why she was doing it. Christie Fields was who she was. It was who Cassandra had had coffee with, It wasn’t just a stooge, a name on the legal papers, some empty facade. Maybe it started that way but she poured herself into it and it wasn’t empty now. So why was she pretending like it was?
“Yeah, I get it. A fresh start.”
“Yeah, sort of,” she shrugged a little. Filled in more information on the paper, hoped that Cassandra would let it drop now.
“I’m glad,” she lied. She was little surprised she could get it out right. She tried again just to make sure it was real. “I’m glad you were able to have the life we always talked about.”
She smiled at her and Cassie wanted to slam her teeth into the glass case she was writing on.
“You will have it too. You’ll see,” she said.
No, you will see. I will make you see.

Helen Richards had a warrant for her arrest (OR WHATEVER IT IS THEY PUT OUT ON LONG TIME FUGITIVES). Three years ago she escaped from the state facility she was kept in (you know, figure out where the hell all these hospital and institutes are for fuck’s sake).  She stabbed two people in her escape. Stabbing was her favorite form of violence it seemed. Both survived but she add more agg assault charges to her rap sheet.
And after that she vanished. For awhile anyway. Until earlier that year. What did she do with that phone in the mean time (I mean how long can they trace or track GPS data from cell phones? Did she maybe keep it turned off until she need the trail to implicate Christie? Was that even purposeful?)
Now his perspective shifted. While her arrest file was thinner than what he could get on Christie, the charges matched the current crimes better. Basically stabbing after stabbing. Frenzied repetitive stabbing. She had been in all the same places but Helen was already a ghost, like a shadow following her. Whatever name and money she traveled on he had no way or idea of tracking it down. AT least, not with what he had now. Not until he could bring Helen in for questioning. Or arrest her on her outstanding warrant. But he had no idea where to go to find her or what she wanted out of following Christie.
HE chugged down like half a can of Red Bull and a light bulb flickered on in the back of his brain. So far, as far as he could tell anyway, Helen was where ever Christie was. So if he followed her, he might spot Helen and close this case more conclusively.



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