Exhaustion is a Bitch

Hello friends!  It’s been a while since last we spoke.  How are ya?  Good?  I hope everything is going well.  I have been a slug all week long.  I admit it, I’ve done nothing productive.  This is the first time I’ve even thought about blogging since I wrote up the intro for Six Sentence Sunday last week.  Which reminds me… I have to sign up for that again.  I opened up my current WIP, “Bloodflower,” to work on it last night and I wrote maybe a sentence.  It’s not that I don’t want to write, I just simply don’t have the energy.  And I certainly don’t feel sexy.

For those of you that are new to my blog following, I’m a teacher of smallish children.  I know, it sounds pretty scary considering the content of my work.  The point is, after dealing with that all day, writing lesson plans, compiling multi-media presentations to display information, refereeing slap-fights, fielding calls from parents who truly believe in their heart of hearts that their child is a darling little angel that would never do anything wrong— I’m exhausted.  I can’t think creatively.  Some days are better than others, of course.  Lucky for me, Thursdays with my writing partner, Siobhan Kinkade, always manage to energize me to keep going.  I just feel so crummy that all my other writing friends seem to be finishing things at an alarming rate and here I am, struggling to keep my head above water.

But now that’s off my chest and I’ll close with a bit more of “Bloodflower.”  I’d like to thank everyone that commented on my SSS post.  I got more response from a little blood and gore than from a whole paragraph of sex.  Weird.  I guess all you kids likey the violence.  And the badass vampires…


The creature watches her closely as she makes her way down the darkened street.  She moves quickly and he can smell the fear emanating from every pore.  She parked in the alley earlier
this afternoon, but she hadn’t expected it to be dark when she came back.  Now everything looked dark and imposing.  Every shadow is a demon in the dark, every passerby a murderer.  Her eyes dart this way and that, seeing nothing but imagining everything.  She feels hunted, though she cannot imagine that which hunts her.  She moves faster, sensing his presence, her keys clutched firmly in her hand.  She tries not to look around too much, afraid
that she’ll be staring into the face of the devil if she takes too much time to focus.  Finally she reaches the end of the alleyway where her car sits and she seems relieved to see it.

Creeping along the ledge overhead, he follows her down the street, keeping low so that she can’t see him.  And he doesn’t need to see her, he can feel her.  Smell her.  Her scent permeates the air around him and he breathes deeply, taking it in.  He wants to pounce, but knows that the anticipation will only make it sweeter.  He ducks back into shadows,  crouching down at the corner of the building to lie in wait.  She fumbles with her keys and curses the lack of streetlamps in this town.  Someone down the street screams, startling her.  She turns to look and her keys go flying, glinting once in the moonlight before being thrust into the inky darkness.  The girl makes a noise somewhere between anger and terror and drops to her knees, feeling around the ruddy pavement desperately.

“Where the fuck—“ she whines, crawling forward a little.  Her knees scrape against the rough gravel and he’s instantly inflamed with the scent of her blood.  Its carried on the wind and for a moment it clouds everything else.  His mouth waters and he can feel the burning pinpricks in his mouth as his fangs begin to grow. It was time to make his move.  He was in the perfect position to head her off if she tried to run.  There was no escape from the alley but into his embrace.  His body tensed, ready to pounce.  If the monster had a heart, it would be pounding hard against his sternum as the blood rushed through his veins.  But there was no heart.  As they say, its always the first thing to go.


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