Short Story, “Twinkle”

  Twinkle’s eyes flew into mine, bright green, emerald eyes trapped me.  In a moment, sparks elevated my heart, and I believed the stars were closer than heaven.  The cat inspired a smile and grateful tears.  He loved me as much as his food.  

My boyfriend, now ex, told me I had to get rid of Twinkle.  I popped another crisp potato into my gluttonous mouth.  My stomach turned.  Without my cat, I wouldn’t be able to cope.  That’s when he gave me the choice between him and the cat.

The cat stayed. Controlling boyfriend was ditch dirt. 

My hand glided over Twinkle’s white body.  His muscles rippled under a coat of thick fur.  He meowed a few times then laid at my feet.  His purrs came in and out.  He sneezed, and I found myself loving every minute of it, made more love in the cold world.

While Jack scored a ten in looks, my ex didn’t have a heart or a love for the living, for true grace and beauty.  For him, the world crumpled with paper with that his fountain of worth.  When I dated him, his obsession with the mediocre mountains held more importance than my feelings. 

“Babe, you know I love you,” he said before he left forever, before I went postal dream girl on his sorry ass.

“No you don’t.”  By then, I’d known better.  Love doesn’t seek to control.  It wants to find a place to bloom, not cower under and away from the light.  If Nature were that way, there’d be no life.  She expects more out of her children, all working together, all pushing towards survival of the fittest, to Nature’s carved gems. 

“Honey, I told you. She’s just a friend.” We stared at the lightning storm coming over the ocean.  Wild waves whipped the world.  The air smelt of salt and something else, of pouring blood. 

“A friend?  A friend you spend all night with then come to me for comfort.”

“You’re my main attraction,” Jack tried.  His eyes turned soft, and I noticed his dilated eyes.

“Are you on drugs?” I asked.

“Babe, no, what gave you that impression.” 

“I don’t believe you.”

“Babe, wait!” He cried out.  In the memory, I turned and ran from the large window seemingly holding the sea.  The heavens cried tears.  However, by that time, I was past fear into insanity one gets over a lover.  My muscles strained going up the ramp to my apartment.  Jack was close before.  Now he was a world away. 

When I got home, I slammed the door.

Twinkle immediately came to me, her fluffy tail going back and forth.  A look of concern crossed his small and loving mind.

“Not you,” I said back.  “I chose you.” 

And then end of my first life passed. 

I turned back to reality. The couch smelled bad, so I pulled out a can of febreeze and sprayed the whole apartment, the hole in the wall where I lived.  Gangs passed by, not wanting to deal with the crazies or brainwashed university students.  Their morals kept them in brotherly love. 

I lived in a poor place, but my parents were rich, cut me off.  I’d taken Twinkle and did all I could to feed her, to make sure her water bowl was filled. 

Fuck my parents, I thought.  Their grinning, white teeth reminded me of shark’s teeth.  I didn’t fit into their world of parties and luxury.   

I worked in an office filing all day and cleaned the hospital at night. 

Twinkled rubbed my legs. I pet him again and again before he lost patience.  He went to his food bowl and chomped off the good stuff.  For his treats, I ate noodles, hotdogs and eggs, a big difference from when I lived at home with sushi and steak enough to feed forty homeless people. 

The promise of extreme excess bothered me.  The world was filled with hungry people, of babies without milk and mothers without the proper nutrition to save their children from diseases in the third world, the kind the first world had fifty brands of medicine.  White bottles, green bottles, blue bottles, all wasted and discarded. 

A knock came to the door.  The rain stopped, and I saw the sun rip through the clouds onto the world.

  I moved my rear and walked to the thin, wooden door. 

It was Jack.

“What do you want?”

“Babe, I can’t live without you.”

“It’s been a week.”

“I know, babe, can you forgive me?” 

It seemed like a waste of time.  I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. 

“I’m sorry.  I can’t take you back.  You don’t want me for anything but a quick lay, and you aren’t any good anyway.”  I shut the door in his face, latched the cheap lock and rolled my eyes.

Jack taped on the window.  “Are you going to leave me here alone and broken hearted?” He roared, entitled. 

I pulled the drapes over the window and got my mace.  Twinkle gave me a brutal look.  Someone was invading her calm house.  Her tail moved, and she sat on her butt slowly.  He was there for me. 

Jack threw a rock at the window.  It crashed through.  A bloody hand came through.  Twinkle acted aggressively, hissing and asking me with angry eyes if he should kill Jack.  Of course, I would have let her had I not been further surprised to the point of The Twilight Zone. 

Twinkle stood on all fours and let out a huge meow and then a roar.  He inflated to over ten times his size and jumped through the window, staining his coat with Jack’s blood.

Am I the one who’s on drugs?  I asked myself, not believing the information shooting into my eyes. 

Twinkle leapt back and jumped back into my arms like a kitten.  He’d shrunk and looked directly into my eyes before saying, “Thanks for the food.  I must be on my way.  I’m a very busy warlock.  I have places to haunt and spells to inflict.  Your parents now live in a trailer by a small pond that swells with pride sometimes.”


Divine Sign or Divine Stalker

Mass went well.  I screwed up a lot of times and couldn’t hear myself sing.  Sorry.

The priest talked about something I’d thought about yesterday and wrote on a blog.

So, it begs the question.. do religious leaders stalk new members online, people who click on their website, or is God trying to tell me I’m not trivial?  remember that Putin read my blog (I’m not being psychotic or delusional), so weird stuff can happen.

I have spent years with eastern religions, and this was simple in comparison.


Most of my dreams are gory or psychological thrillers.  I have similar settings and rules for the all worlds I journey to.  I even have an awareness of my dream self, like I remember other things in my dreams and know little of the awakened world.

Last night, Alma really pissed me off.   She’s the ghost I pay attention to. She showed her true form then threw a baby at me without a face.  It was all rotting flesh.  At that point, I knew I was in a dream, so, instead of running, I attacked the baby, a demon.  I felt a buzz all over my body and woke up.

She was a little brat. She’s getting spanked if she does that again. I will not tolerate this behavior from her.

I Need Your Help

For the few who brush the tall grass of my site, I need your help.

I’ve turned this into bitchfest puke–like xanga.  I need to save it for the psychiatrist and not burden you guys.  If I start whining, please tell me to stop.  I know you guys don’t like it, and it’s bad for me, too.  I have to move on and stop grabbing at air.

I’m wasting time.

I will post my stories and poems here from now on.

Today In Group I Shined like a Special Star

Like I’ve said, I’ve been abused– a lot, and I’m trying to let my abusers go because I think they deserve nice lives, too.  No one is perfect.  I’ve hurt people as well.  We all bump and grind a bit in the game of life.  Okay, whatever. Putin just has a hook in me, last one — a Russian male (enough said).

My new “I have schizophrenia only” mantra fell to pieces.  In the hospital, I would jump out of bed when they came in or kick them.  That is from being raped so many times by machines and having people enter my apartment, and I had to get out fast.  You don’t have long before they act, and you have to move faster that their sights.

Then, during this group, one of the cellphones went off, and I jumped and looked for the exits.  Dammit..  Everyone notes how good my hearing is.  And I’m chubby.  I did all the things she said later when discussing PTSD, including trying to hide it.

And that’s one of the reasons I was so pissed at Putin.  I was like, what the Hell? back then.  I’ve been through several animal coping problems, and I usually ignore it, like the boy whose hands bled at the stoplight.

It helped me to know that I am not in control of everything, not that I don’t try to fix it.  Doubles and splitting.  Like I hinted at Putin, my instincts were poisoned.  It was essentially, “You are going to kill me.  Rape me.”  Fuck instead of die.  There are lots of those reactions.  I laugh at them.  I’m still married to you honey.  There’s nothing so hated as a Russian male and an American female.  We’re perfect 😉

I believe I’m allowed to be enraged over the 3 dollar diet coke at Burger King.

When I rule the world, there will be NO SPLITTING!  I want the beings to be themselves and grow up without a fake grin.

. I know exactly who I want to be.

As far as the brain virus of rape in the head, why not set up clinics and show reason and consent.  I seriously doubt these weapons are doing good.  Maybe good for their pockets.

The Hydra