Gospel 316 ~To B A Mom~

If I wasn’t so damn Depressed… please, God, no, I would say I could explode at any time. Hell, just saying that got me on some list, but I’m talking about the movie “Spontaneous” (2020). Moms might get mad at me, but what else is new. To B A Mom

Thursday, May 13, 2021

Gospel 316 ~To B A Mom~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? How about how dare I, am I right? But for now, it’s just us two.

I was nowhere near ready to be your father and your Mom… Back when I was only your uncle, but you know how your Mom was. She called you her “real first baby,” yep. Braxton, I texted your grandmommy too. Now I didn’t send her anything, and doesn’t that sound familiar. I didn’t get you a Christmas present but for your sweet sixteen B… What would have been, but I thought we had more time. I’m sure that’s what your furry Mom thought too. Women and life um… Bitches, man

Again how dare I, but as the song goes, “That I’ll be standing right here talking to you.” Well, more like lounging around in bed. It’s been 102 days since the vet “said you sailed a big ship. Said you sailed away.” Well more poetically, like something from my playlist. Anything to cover up the silence B. I can’t remember crying in my Ma’s arms or any woman’s, to be honest. Right now, I can still feel you beside me. You’re lying against my legs, or you’re warm under the covers. There are clean clothes for you to indulge in. You could listen to me bitch to the ladies, Inspector Echo, Dear Future Wife, Dirty Diana. Of course, you replaced the last one, and you never met Dear Future Wife, aka your Mom. The book I’m going to write next NaNoWriMo could be 50,000 words of I’m sorry, remember that? Boys need a Mom, and I’m not being political there.

Last night after watching “Spontaneous” (2020), I felt pretty… Depressed. Today I don’t want to think about Depression, the fourth stage of grief. Watching all the Republican bull afterward didn’t help. I understand why my sister raised you watching Disney. Exploding wouldn’t be so bad, B III. It wasn’t so quick for you, I know, but five days and you were gone. Boom! When Mara was walking away covered in um, such and such blood, that’s how I felt, and I didn’t have my Ma or anybody to hold me. I bitch to you, Braxton. My bannerman, my best friend, my boy. Whoever would have been my wife and your Mom, damn, that’s asking everything.

I’ve shed enough tears for two. To B A Mom

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 309 ~Catching Our Tales Braxton~

Braxton was never one to go chasing his TAIL as he was always so busy following me. Like The Road, “Sometimes I TELL the boy old stories of courage and justice,” it was never many of those. “Catching Our Tales Braxton…” maybe the world will know

Thursday, May 6, 2021

Gospel 309 ~Catching Our Tales Braxton~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Like last week when we spoke around this time, there was no story to tell.

If I do get fired, did, Hell Braxton, do you have any superpowers, supernatural? Have you become all-seeing, which explains why your Daddy is still a monk and a lazy ass? I have been talking to “everyone” today. I don’t know what the next day will bring for me ever. Now it won’t be the story of your resurrection, will it? As Tupac put it, “bury me in pieces cause they fear reincarnation.” My Old Man of all people said that your spirit could be calling out from another furbaby somewhere. I guess A Dog’s Purpose was plenty for me. You’ve seen what I’ve been reading nowadays. I would ask if you ever listened to me before to please avert your eyes and ears B.

You hated my phone as it took my attention away from you. Daddy always had a song for you, so let me sing. “Son, what you don’t understand, my words might never explain. So I am hoping that time will.” When I took a shower, though… Daddy’s stuff and thangs. However, when I wasn’t looking those things up, I’ve been researching what took you away. Oh, I still blame myself, no doubt, and I don’t blame you for wanting to get to the bottom of it. I read in Succubus Lord how the Shades relive their deaths over and over. Not saying you went to Hell, of course, unless Cerberus needed friendship or you’re saving me a spot by the fire. The two of us…

Didn’t I tell you I killed off your character writing for Camp NaNoWriMo? I swear if I write another book for the next one, it will be about us, I promise. Maybe I will include these letters with some poetry, and I’ve gotten into photography books. What do you think? Braxton, I haven’t been telling the happy stories about us these days because I explained to someone. Without your love, the void has been filled with hate, I’m afraid. Rage, I have no problem letting out, but if I had shown more love to you and less wrath to others, I wish? What I wouldn’t give to have you lying on my ass again as I come up with these gems of wisdom Little B.

I’m trying, and one day, hopefully Catching Our Tales Braxton.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 302 ~What’s The B Ending~

I had no idea how bad Wednesday was going to be. The last one that was so… heinous, B III cried, but all I could do was pick him up, wrap him under my arm, and nap. It didn’t end there; the week only got worse but for a moment. “What’s The B Ending?”

Thursday, April 29, 2021

Gospel 302 ~What’s The B Ending~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I don’t really want to talk about my day, and I haven’t even lived it.

I’m sure you don’t want to talk about that Wednesday when I was feeling this way. Time-Travel, Monsieur B. If I had done more of it on January, 27 perhaps I wouldn’t be here April 29 without you. At present, though, it’s April 24, and you know why I’m speaking. As I tell you every AM, I miss you, B III. I still love you like pancakes, but B, I must confess. Shouldn’t I have done that Wednesday? God, I hate Wednesday and Sunday. Not the days’ fault but mine. So my secret… when I say I miss you, I can hear MILF Dos’s voice. If it’s any consolation, you would have liked her yabbos. Now I know you appreciated Indiana Gone’s, without a doubt.

I was thinking about getting her a picture of you or us. Braxton, she misses you, but that would be weird. Always and forever B, so as long as I’m alive, you will be too until we’re together again. I should try cutting off Youtube once in a while, but um, “He Lives In You.” It’s what I tell myself every day, B, and look at me crying again. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop, but I need something to round out the Anger, especially this week. It’s almost like the one I had when you…. Again I’m not even living this week as I write you B Squared. Tell me something, do I deserve to have this pain end? I finished Camp NaNoWriMo…

Hell, if I had published a book already like Cherry? I saw her this morning, do me a favor, B, and see if you can find a cat named Millie. Talk about “stalking,” remembering some English vixen’s cat on the Rainbow Bridge. I’m still a monk and your Daddy. Braxton, was that even funny? So many things ended when you left, and those that began? I want to stay in the same place, you know, but life has its ways. How dare I say that. You wanted to live and now… was I going to say I want to die? I don’t want to move, I know that. The way our story ended like something out of NieR: Automata. Always, Forever, What’s The B Ending?

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 171 ~High Noon, Hi Will~

Talk about living on a mattress, or maybe I’m Linus with his blue blanket or more like my hoodies. Trevor Noah stole my style. Anyway, I better be up before January 6, and if that goes well, the 20th. “High Noon, Hi Will” who wakes up to fight?

Saturday, December 19, 2020

Gospel 171 ~High Noon, Hi Will~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I would still spend every afternoon in bed. I’ve spoken about what gets me up and going. On my Christmas list, I said I wanted an island. Only by all accounts that might mean a gigantic bed. Hell, why did I get up now? My Dæmon’s demands, such as “I’m Hungry, Thirsty, need to go Potty.” I can at least say that makes me better than the Trump Administration. Let’s not get into January 6 or the 20th. I’ve still got my gun, but again I’m not some Trumptard gun nut, well, not yet.

Nobody gets up to die, right? Well, okay, I don’t get how cowboys did it back in the wild west. I mean, yeah, so we have soldiers, police officers, frontline personnel. You’re asking, why am I so political? As I said, lying in bed, watching YouTube and killing the Dead. What about cultists, hmm? I’m on the final mission of Far Cry 5, “Where It All Began.” Since I’ve been delving back into my gamer roots, I’ve only beaten one game on the PS4, Detroit: Become Human. So what did I do Friday night instead of fighting Joseph Seed? Hmm? I’m starting to think I’m incapable of finishing anything. The past few mornings, not counting today, I’ve woken up early to read before falling back asleep after my 15% quota. Not that it’s anything to brag about considering the length of the books I’ve read.

I keep telling myself, I’m trying to learn but are any of these “Christmas” novellas going to help me? The last book I read with any “educational” value was Think and Grow Rich by Napoleon Hill. I meant to tell Lady Sophia before I should go back to writing reviews. Only all the books I read are considered “inappropriate.” So that would explain the books I’m writing, and I can’t finish those. If I can survive today, I’ll actually score one more win on Six Impossible Things. Yet again, I was on my belly in bed crawling like some slug. As my motivations say, you did not wake up to be mediocre. I was supposed to have so much more accomplished by now. It’s like NaNoWriMo but with my whole life. I finish 50’000 words, and then what. Uh, nothing.

Dumb Ways To Die… waking up. High Noon, Hi Will.

I Will Have No Fear

Gospel 009 ~Willie That’s Your Story~

Didn’t I say something about writing real-life last week? It is starting to catch up to my fictional world, and even eclipse it. I guess that’s why today I finally came up with a plot, and still, I have to ask? Willie That’s Your Story

Friday, July 10, 2020

Gospel 009 ~Willie That’s Your Story~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and that’s because I write good stories… Yeah, I couldn’t say that with a straight face. One more reason to love the plague era we’re in. Speaking of which, I should get this story out of my mind. Don’t worry, it’s true. I talked about this yesterday, a man wanting to cut the lawn and earning TRUST. As for today, I faced my “father.” His car went dead. A tale of TERROR, if anything. If you’re looking for something with a TERRIFIC ending. My granddaddy is alive, so is my younger sister after getting the Coronavirus.

Now don’t get on me about not using the term “Happy Ending.” Hell, today I had to get up from Mariah Mallard, a.k.a. Momokun’s massive Yabbos. I wonder which is more offensive, either wanting to FAP to her and who doesn’t? Pretending that her Yabbos are Cherry’s. Yeah again, covering her face and mouthing Cherry’s name. How about the fact that I want to put them both in the novel I should be writing? The real-life adventures of Will are either scary or dull as everything. To this day, I still say, bring on the zombies already. While I was with my father, I was thinking I would end up another statistic. Say, Waiting While Black in front of a gas station. Anyway, so besides hearing my father’s stories, what about the one that’s waiting.

“For A Fine, Cherry Spread,” and yes Lady Sophia, that is a working title. I finally came up with a theme, a concept, a plot, whatever. Father Win William Bridgman is still mourning the loss of Cherry and her Mum. He and his son are at odds over how he tried to protect Cherry, whose a murderess of several young girls. Having been “banished” from The Moondust. Father Bridgman takes his fleshly pleasures from Amia Jocelyn Everhart (MILF Dos). Bastian Barks Bennett’s wife, a.k.a. Evie Gabriela Bennett (Carrie Cummings) wants to repair her family. Amia hatchets a plot to inform Evie of her Father-In-Law’s businesses. Threatening to go to the police. Father Bridgman kidnaps her, further increasing the divide of father and son. Cherry’s memories will serve as evidence through diary entries, videos, and more.

I’m still messing up the story though both fiction and reality when it comes to life. With my lifestyle and still, Willie That’s Your Story.

I Will Have No Fear

Gospel 002 ~Plot Not Playboy Will~

I talked about repeating myself, blah, blah PORN, *cue Charlie Brown adults* wah, wah, which is what I might as well be writing instead of the real-life adventures of a not so young Will. Plot Not Playboy Will.

Friday, July 3, 2020

Gospel 002 ~Plot Not Playboy Will~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but what am I doing with my primary two sources of income. Writing and women, no, I’m afraid I’m still stuck with the Day Job. Again no, but the story of my life isn’t getting any better and who’s at fault. I found my antagonist, yep.

He’s the guy who only today, got a new pair of boots and what about food? Remind me never to order from East Buffet again. I still miss the Red Lantern. East Buffet’s curry chicken is neither spicy nor overall appetizing. Somehow they got three stars from me, and I don’t have the time to write yet another review. Hell, I don’t have the time to finish the one I’ve been promising from the Logs to now the Gospels. The word is growing on me, but what isn’t moving is my new novel. It’s day three, and I’m already falling behind with Chapter Two. At least I can say I did a good deed for someone else rather than becoming the villain. I returned a lost phone, but was that by the goodness of my heart? As always, I was guided by FEAR, of my own loss and of getting caught thieving or even hacking.

Why steal when I’m sitting on $1,335.00 from saving up half the year? If I’m hacking anything, it would be between some girl’s… yeah, today ain’t Thursday. It’s so HARD, though… NO FAP. I still miss MILF Dos, I can’t deny that. I thought about reaching out to Cherry, but I reined that in. I haven’t quit cold turkey though considering Nagoonimation, which was only $5.00 but is worth far more. Final Fantasy VII has been a driving force and not because of the story. I have never played it.

So what about Too Late and For A Fine Cherry Spread? Lady Sophia, I have to make it through the end of the week. Seven days and what, my biggest streak lately was thirty, and so far, I’ve barely made it one day. Seeing as how this is a new year though I am trying, I swear it. Even as I say this, though, where am I? You guessed it, downloading Nagoonimation’s animations. I always need to know the end of a story, right? Where to begin though Lady Sophia.

I’m only good at finishing um, Plot Not Playboy Will.

I Will Have No Fear

Log 361 ~Told By A Willie~

It’s a tale told by an idiot or will be in about five days. Three years of writing this blog, with around 400 words each day, SIGH. What do I have left to say other than being a broken record player? Told By A Willie, ha

Friday, June 26, 2020

Log 361 ~Told By A Willie~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but that would mean I could stop listening to my Willy one day. You know, my Wang, my monster, and Pedro. All my life, it seems I’ve been listening to one Willie or another. The one in my pants, my fears, and of course, my “father.”

Let’s start with my favorite and my worst. It should be said that I’m not a racist, and I’m not only saying that being a Black “Man” in the deep south. Wang and Pedro, for example. I’m not looking up Wang, I looked up Willie once today, and Pedro reminds me of Varsity Blues. Black Lives Matter, but what was I doing with mine last night? An excuse, but “something” happened and between three different women. Mia Khalifa in Graduating Summa Cum Loud, Final Fantasy VII Remake – Hot Tifa Lockhart – Part 48 and my current “obsession.” Hell Lady Sophia, I rubbed one out, so I’m not telling a story of being clean. Right now, my NO FAP story is only eleven hours. What am I going to do when Camp NaNoWriMo rolls around in July?

Oh yeah, that’s one more thing I’m scared of. Besides not keeping it in my pants, I’ve told you about my shoe/feet problem. So that means I’m going to have to get off my ass and go shopping at some point today. Now that explains why I’m talking to you right now. I’m scared of walking into the gas station with a mask on, so yeah, I had to work that out. I still haven’t called about a haircut. As always, I’m worried about My Dæmon. How many times do I have to carry him downstairs? The spam links keep coming, but as far as I know, all is well. Lady Sophia, that’s one of my greatest fears. I will be sitting right here again next year, writing in my bed. Five more days and I will have been telling my story for three years.

A tale told by an idiot if my father had his say. Yeah, I’m not allowing him on my Facebook, and did I mention I’m still blocked by MILF Dos. The fear of losing her has come and gone. I go back and forth between sending more money, trying again, a story without any end.

Why do I deserve an ending, Told By A Willie?

I Will Have No Fear

Love The Way You Run

It’s a disease this thing called love I once heard, but I think I’m an asymptomatic carrier when you get right down to it, or as the song goes, Love Don’t Love Me but I haven’t written any “sweet” poetry lately, or short stories. Love The Way You Run

My heart beats faster and faster, as though it can escape me, soon I almost mutter aloud and yet she sees, one of the many and if she thinks I can turn around and face the rest of them as her voice breaks through. “How about today, Mr. Berton” Ms. Everard tutted, how she surely must have gone into the wrong profession, but who better to teach a man about life and death but a woman but this was Math.

How long have I been staring at her, could I count the breaths that I missed and apparently I must be missing a brain, I must be the Tin Man, minus the ax as well… one more reason I couldn’t turn around. Her eyes as brown as the dirt I wanted to bury myself under, was I not one more dead man and yet it’s dead things that make others grow, as hard as the board I haven’t touched in ages, please let me just hack away and build a coffin. Yeah but my heart won’t allow it, or that’s what I keep telling myself, fighting to stay alive though I was already in Hell, though nobody would know it with my complexion but hers?

The dead can be monsters, lucky for her, though I could see the rivers of red run along her tanned cheeks, the small scars healing as though she met a beast long before me, though her soft pink lips called me anything but her worst nightmare. “Mr. Berton” she cried as she walked over to me, her black top barely containing her but it could be worst, if it were her heart I was after, and then men chase skirts, the tigress’s one she was wearing, no I would instead trace the black heart tattoo along her cheek or the designs along her wrist. Surely she must be crazy to approach me, killing me like this or bringing me back to life, I would choose the former rather than face the class once again in this state, I just couldn’t.

Saved by the bell, as the class began to leave, my backpack not big enough to hold me, no EMT’s or coroner’s to pronounce what I already knew, was it wrong for me to even wish for a cop, death might come that much quicker. No, I wouldn’t need that, as Ms. Everard, cautioned “see you tomorrow,” now honestly I am no track star, but I am surely going to give it a chance as I ran out of there as fast as my feet cared to carry me now.

If I didn’t see her, her, or even her, why was I still going to school if my only job prospect was looking at the ground, knowing the moment I looked up, I would be knocked off of my feet, better to find the whole now, get it over with.

Better a cabin in the woods than being eaten alive, a careless whisper, a kiss, the scent of perfume, there was no fighting this, I wanted to believe, as I scurried along, call me a coward, or worse one of the infected. Rage, at them, at myself, hell that’s what I felt, but it’s nature, even the animals that have no concept of it, knew it, and here I thought people were supposed to prefer the privacy of their own homes. That’s where I was headed, maybe I could attribute my sickness to anything but the butterflies in my stomach, though I doubted even Noah had the problems I was feeling running through my veins.

No, they will not make a monster out of me, idle hands being the devil’s playthings and all but I didn’t have anyone to call, no money to spend, and while violence was far more accepted, it could never be condoned. If I could be like the cool kids, I could probably get a drink somewhere, maybe I could smoke something, it might even make me that much braver and live or die, it wouldn’t matter in the end perhaps.
Some idiot laughing on the ground and the pretty girls’ laughter brings him back to life, and he’ll only fall down again, for her I suppose or she for him, why don’t I find more joy in my immunity to all of this? Sickness is never a good thing, and that’s what the world would make of me as I ran that much faster, I must look like a lunatic and if only they knew they would have me committed by sundown. Why couldn’t this all exist in the dark, that’s where the monsters were supposed to come out and play, but where was I headed now, there were no bright lights where I was going if I kept my computer off of my obsession.

I would make myself a sacrifice for the good of the world, the sole survivor but to what end, and her’s, had God chosen to curse me so, as I stared and in the next second wondered who put that pole there as I crashed.

Light as a feather but only a board, was written on one of the books she carried but she did not stop, perhaps I was already a ghost, and none of them could see me, even if she was attuned with the spirit world as her library would suggest. It would make sense the way I was haunting her, some might say stalking, others would make me out to be a creep, nobody ever saw me until far too late.

Not good enough for Heaven and not bad enough for Hell and yet I was surrounded by angels and the devils that would have them, if but a word from me, after all, a ghost still needed a place to haunt some nights. It would explain a lot, I didn’t eat much, nobody ever heard a word I said, well at not women and some women loved to pretend that I would jump out at them when they least expected, it’s like being an alien only that beast would be my heart crawling its way out of my chest. Just it wouldn’t be today if I could make it back to my haunting ground without any more bruises or scars.

At least that’s how the guys saw me, maybe I was surrounded by ghosts or angels, and every guy saw me as a necromancer, I was paid to bring girls to life, and those men got to “love” them, I could be the grim reaper. Only it was grim I would ever see that girl again, her burgundy hair, those greenish-brown eyes, her snow-white skin, clad in black top similar to my teacher’s and blue jeans that would have to be peeled off of her slowly. Much like my dark skin if I ever got the chance, she was probably looking into the tarot now, coming up with a million reasons why we couldn’t be together in some way maybe.

I could help her out with that, but I will be damned if I was chasing after such a beauty like the beast I could not choose to be for the life of me, or for the life of her, and that was one million and one if she could hear me. We didn’t belong together because I was already dead or would be I imagined all the more as I saw my reflection in a puddle, yes I decide what I was going to be or was, a zombie.

Some zombies were only interested in brains, others were connoisseurs of the flesh, and while I could admit there was something about brunettes, I was not picky from wanting a dark-haired single mother, to a girl interested in the next realm. Still lacking my brain, why else would I feast on or find any thought I had elsewhere and not on the tip of my tongue, I must be starving.

Werewolves would lock themselves in cages, vampires had one coffin, but what could hold a zombie, the cure would be a million times worse than the virus, the ground may not change on the path, but these people were walking obituaries. Feasting upon each other time and again, some for their whole lives, and they pitied me… maybe they were right, but I accepted what I was a long time ago, and how dare I take somebody with me, zombies have mobs, as for me… I wanted to tear her apart, but I wouldn’t turn around and follow my black magic woman, I wouldn’t taste those juicy pink lips, bite or even nibble upon her.

Too many people had taken bites from my brain already, no wonder I couldn’t remember what it was to be like them or at the very least what I pretended to be because what I was could not be allowed anywhere. Let the disease run rampant all over the globe, I would run, I would hide, better than being one of them, no never, I kept telling myself, until I turned blue in the face, but I was so close to the house now. A zombie that would not bite, because no the world did not need more of me running around and I’m sure there were enough women that wanted to blow my head off for a few reasons.

What kind of monster thinks that; not a zombie that’s for sure they fear nothing, most monsters don’t, but there is something that is full of fear as I ran faster and I saw her standing there waiting to be let in. Have I had it all wrong, as I was clad in my black hoodie with matching jeans and boots, staring at the brunette vixen, cleaning supplies in hand, not that it would be enough; am I a psycho?

I’m only a man, and there was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide now, but she was just the maid, not that I would think of her in such simplistic terms, not with a body to die for, the thought kept replaying in my mind. My would-be prey who was making sure to clean all the evidence of her arrival, she would be all that was left for me, the only picture taken in her soft brown eyes, a t-shirt, a pair of shorts, and the matching underwear I bought her for Christmas once.

A psycho was always prepared, only there were no axes, no playroom, not a respectable torture device to be had, gloves, machete, or a chainsaw, and they say that humans are made in the image of God. While I still wasn’t a believer in such the things I wanted were less than holy without a doubt and would damn me for all eternity, well damned if I do or damned if I don’t, so why was I the one backing away looking to get out. She was only a girl, but any would-be man would tell you that can be the scariest thing in the universe easily; witch, siren, succubus, and yet somehow here she was on her knees keeping me at bay easily enough.

“Is there anything else I can do?” Kaelyn asked, probably reading my darkest intentions as she hurried towards the door, but my hands were shaking as I reached out to hand her the money and she was on her way, safe and sound. As I was lying on my bed, throw in alone, and all would be well except for the knock on my door, Kaelyn forgetting something I wanted to believe but there was nothing there and everything, it was in the air. My next question should have been how did all these ladies get in my house and taking hold of me, but I didn’t need to ask who they were, Aphrodite runs deep these days; if anything I should be flattered but terrified would have to do.

“Who do you think you are,” Cupid asked me, already there was an arrow pointing straight at my heart, as the women held me down and telling them I was a Titan might be the wrong answer as I was surrounded by these gods and goddesses of love. “Now you take the time to find me” I grunted, as they moved forward hungrily, staring at everything that womankind chose to ignore forever and a day.

“Our worst nightmare” Eros chuckled, putting two fingers to my forehead and suddenly I was filled with visions, broken hearts as far as my eyes could see, I indeed was one to be despised so why bother to apologize. On the other hand, they owed me that much and a lot more but what made me think they were interested in me as a person, not when I saw those fangs and claws come out.

Finally, my hands were traveling to the loveliest of places, of course, they were ripped from my wrists, with all sympathies to the Devil, no more worries for any of these gods jobs at this point as I found my voice. I screamed as I felt their jaws, their claws tearing me apart piece by piece, ripping into me, my final love letter and it was being written in blood, or is this why they wanted me all along. Even now I couldn’t help but find the beauty in even this or at least one part of me continued to believe so despite being made into a buffet for over a dozen or so gods of old, that didn’t understand that love has now changed.

I could have even been one of them I sighed or was that my last breath as my heart was finally stolen and Aphrodite smacked her lips holding it in her hands announcing then “I Love The Way You Run.”

Lesson 300 ~I Hope They Remember~

What’s the last story I consider timeless, the story I can reread, and it doesn’t break my heart, or I make me all sorts of anxious before it gets to the good stuff, which one can I quote all day? “I Hope They Remember.”

Friday, April 27, 2018

Lesson 300 ~I Hope They Remember~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I Am Not Fine Today because I remember… I was thinking of a new rule “Good Stories Are Worth Retelling,” but that’s not true at all or at least it’s less true than “History Is Written By The Victors” I still hate that saying. So the lesson today is what stories would you like retold, remembered, reimagined, and please excuse my alliteration but that’s just another thing I wish I could forget but that seems impossible honestly.

Much like forgetting what I watched last night… I won’t say what because I don’t want to spoil it but even when you don’t care it’s just, I know something you don’t know and you know I am no one for secrets. Part of the reason I am a writer is that I want people to know and in the end, remember me, but there are so many stories of who I am I don’t know which one is true anymore. Did I tell you I finished my book and I’m nowhere near done even editing the first chapter and the ending, don’t get me started on endings today shouldn’t I be focused on beginnings?

Anyway as far as stories retold, hell Lady Sophia do you want a list, it would be pretty short, and the Bible didn’t make it, hell I’ve never gotten through the whole thing, every single book. Now there are plenty of books worth remembering but again if anything I want to remember me, remember the man that isn’t me in my words, or give them something to remember because the man I am was never wanted. As far as reimagined, that takes me to last night, can’t say what I was expecting, but I wanted to know it for myself.

I don’t think any story is the same for any person, so that means there has to be someone out there, out of seven billion people or so that will do what… like my story, remember that I’m only human. As I was telling “Indiana Gone” this morning, I might stand a chance as a teacher, on how not to do something but don’t look to me for any guidance.

Then again tell me to stop highlighting every single thing in a book, trying to find some real reason, like the review that I might write today, but of course, I won’t post it quite yet because for right now Sophia I Hope They Remember.

I Will Have No Fear

The AXEL Man Has Cometh

I just wish I had a space bar I could hit, but this story kept my hands from doing this or anything else my hands might regret, but Axel and Aly are all about love and each other despite the past they can’t fight or kill but… The AXEL Man Has Cometh.

Tons of issues but I don’t mean that terribly for the most part… indeed that’s what makes “Axel” so relatable to people, but this hit me on a personal level. It’s not a title I would have sought out myself, more a right place, right moment sort of deal, much like the characters of Axel and Aly, surprised no one went to AA, ok that was a lame joke, but there are plenty of issues.

This novel covers all of the bases, anger, mental health, sex, religion, but in a more realistic way than a standard all you need is love campaign, though there is a sweet love story from the protagonists. It doesn’t make any particular group look bad; I mean religious people often don’t like to be portrayed negatively and given specific events that have been unfolding around sex and such as I said this book points them out for all to see. I wish that were all I saw because I can’t give this book five stars right off the bat, but I’ll explain that soon enough.

Axel is a coming of age story as well, the difference between strong children and broken men, going into more of the latter when it comes to the heroes. It’s the realism that’s the real crux of the story, and that should scare a lot of people in a way when you think about it, and you will be long after you finish reading. The ending is a bit rushed as if you can’t tell how this is going to end; don’t get me wrong it’s an original story but easy to predict mostly and the surprises appear out of left field talking about WTF.

If you don’t want to head further in just know that Bry Ann is a hell of a writer, and I would admittedly delve into her work; not right away but I’m glad I did. Also if you like to think you’re without any particular sin you probably won’t like it but Axel, Aly, alright.

The good news is I can’t automatically place it in one particular genre and while the concept is somewhat familiar other than The Twilight Zone or the nightly newscast I can’t compare it to anything. Most of the characters find themselves out while others just drift with the barest of motivations but every persona should want something, and this delivers.

Messed up boy, good girl with twisted history sounds about right, also throw in a bit of Thirteen Reasons Why (so I found a comparison), and you have the story. Axle has anger issues, gets into boxing, and mental problems notwithstanding he has every reason to be pissed at the world. Aly, the proper religious girl with her growing anger at events but she refuses to let them consume her. Also, she was lost throughout the book not that you can blame her. A couple that is just perfect together, and I could relate to Axel on a mental level and anybody else will, with the past that haunts him.

His parents are well thought out, two people who just want the best for their son, but Aly’s weren’t so much, then again does this book need even more anger, still in a right way. None of the villains were spectacular other than the; you had a sister, I want the girl, this is a perfect life, reminiscent of The Count of Monte Cristo, or how the enemy of my enemy friendship, Axel with Aly, Ryan with Brandon. Other characters seemed just to pop in and what I mean is maybe there should be sort of a drifting in rather than a teleportation if that makes any sense at all.

For a book with so many psychological aspects there is a character here, or there I would have liked to learn more about instead of just the appearance and the disappearance of her. No character is wasted though, and the evolution of the protagonists is well paced beginning to end.

I’ll try to keep any spoilers small, no promises but if you don’t wish to proceed, a solid four stars but barely because of one critical aspect. As for my insights well, I feel a type of way about this title as I do with any other work read but as for my own opinion?

More often than not I blame myself and not the author, I received a free copy for my honest review, but my Kindle has a habit of making things disappear so being a man of my word I purchased a copy from Amazon since I lost the file. Now that should show that I think this work is promising and enjoyable but then I ask, did the author or the editor not know how to use a spacebar? I would blame my Kindle, but with the novels, I’ve stocked. I have never seen this many words just smashed together. I would be ashamed to share it with a friend even with the satisfying storyline and for all its merits and if a hard copy shares the same faults, I *shiver*.

I could have done with some vivid and hardcore descriptions, not Bry Ann’s fault but I think I belong to a specific genre and when I get used to that “type” of writing you find yourself craving more. Namely for me the romance and lack thereof, Axel and Sarah, Aly and Axel, Sarah and Ryan, Aly and Brandon but that’s just me, and it is somewhat refreshing to see Aly stick to her morals. The ending though seen, just barreled on me so quickly, I have done worse in my writing, and for the back end of the book, everything was predictable except for the sister who was just, whoa.

Four stars for significant spacing errors and a bit of an unfinished backstory here and there, I’m almost sliding back to three, but the story is fantastic if you can hang in there. Too bad Santa didn’t bring me a punching bag for Christmas, with my issues and another finished book, punches just seem right, The AXEL Man Has Cometh.