Hi Humans,

It’s Me, God (Akal Purakh, Allah,  Elohim, Goddess,  Ja, Jehova, Kaivalya, Krishna, Love, Olodumare, Om, Yahweh, Zeus, and whatever else y’all are calling Me these days. Thank you Wikipedia).

I wanted to stop in to ask you a question. Nothing fancy, this won’t be on a test or anything. Your answer won’t send you to Hell, I promise. There is some thing you do that perplexes Me, and that’s saying a lot considering I’m all knowing and what not. And you’d think I would know the why, but even in My infinite wisdom, there are still things when it comes to humans I just don’t get, so if you’ve got a minute, indulge Me. Please.

Oh, and another side note.  I didn’t authorize any biographies so those books you’re toting around claiming to be “MY Word”, yeah…not so much.  You see, I don’t talk to humans in a straight forward, “here, let me repeat that so you can write it down” kind of  way. I prefer a more free flowing type of prose so I speak in the world as it appears naturally around you. In the grass you see growing, the water as it rises and falls. Animal calls and the circle of life; evolutionary changes and such. I chat through all things in their natural state. Through life – birth, growth, aging; and Death – transition. So, you may want to put those books down, come out of those mega expensive, monster, concrete and glass caves you’ve built supposedly to worship Me in and spend more time OUTSIDE, WITH ME and listen.

But now, back to why I’m here today. What’s with all the hate and using your belief in Me to justify it? You do realize all this fear of the other, of different thoughts, beliefs, and such has NOTHING to do with Me.  That’s all you.  Humans came up with that and it is Humans who continue to practice it. I couldn’t care less because if you recall, I’m EVERYTHING. It’s all ME. How much sense would it make for Me to hate certain parts of Myself to the point that I want to harm, punish, or even kill them? Sure, you humans do that kind of thing all the time. But that’s you. Not ME. Own your bullshit and stop justifying it based on those books I was telling you about that I didn’t authorize nor contribute to. If it occurs in nature, then it’s all right with ME.

So seriously, what gives?

Sincerely and with THE LOVE,


This came to me while in that state between fully awake and asleep. I’m not claiming it to be a direct conversation, just some words as I heard them. All of my writing comes from voices in my head. Divine? Who’s to say.

Enjoy you day.

Love, Dana

The Other Side of the Bed – “I AM”

Previous snippets: One, Two

Jessie sat in the middle of the bed. A warm cup of her favorite peppermint tea warming her hands.  Her eyes were closed.  Sunlight streamed through the bedroom window illuminating the left side of the room with soft comfort.  The blank space beneath the bed glowed slightly.

Three meditative breathes later and the voice was there.

“I AM”

“Good morning.  Why are you here?”


“Can you not be released?”


“Are you evil?”

“I AM”

A vision of space, vast, empty, yet alive with the many molecules, atoms, and particles that make up everything in existence floated through Jessie’s mind. She felt overwhelmed. Three more meditative breathes, a sip of the tea from the mug, and a refocusing mantra.

“So, you’re just…”

“I AM. Existing. Bound.”

“Are there others like you?”

“Singular. Many. Bound.”

A sense of sadness became evident to Jessie. She watched the emotion, sipped her tea.

“You can’t leave here, that’s why you need a guardian.”

“Care. Help. I AM”

“Will you kill me?”

Silence. She wondered if it puzzled over the idea of death. If it had any concept in its existence that equaled that state of non-existence. As the minutes stretched on she thought to end the meditation, then the space behind her eyes filled with bright light.

“Care. Help. Exist.”

An image of her aunt Sylvia appeared in the light. Followed soon after by her voice. “We exist but not in this form. Energy goes on forever. Flesh does not. There is no good, or evil, there just is. And that which exists must gather energy to continue to exist as it is. When there is no energy to sustain that form, it returns to its original state.”  Sylvia faded with the light.

“I am.”

The sadness again. This time so big it made Jessie cry.

Later that afternoon, she sat in the library combing through city records.  The town was settled in the late 1500s.  The house she lived in, as close as she could find was built on the remnants of a property deeded to Samuel Crosgrove. His family lived and farmed there for three generations. His great grand daughter was accused of being a witch and was hung in the town square. She was twelve. The family moved away after that and the property was taken over by the church. In an effort to rid the town of evil, all the buildings on the property were burned, the ground blessed, and a church built.  The cemetery came soon after. There was little information after that until in the late 20’s when the church burned to the ground for no explicable reason. No one was hurt; it was two in the morning or so when someone noticed the flames. By then, the building couldn’t be saved. Shortly after that, the congregation sold the land to a developer who built a small section of homes for the few veterans around town who’d found it difficult after WWI to get settled.

There wasn’t any more information about the property.  But in other news, that enclave of homes seemed to experience a string of bad luck. Husbands, wives went missing. Children ran away from home, a lot. Dogs and cats both seemed to run away as well, ending up on other people’s porches, or in their backyards refusing to return to their rightful homes. People moved away, properties went unsold and were eventually abandoned. They fell into disrepair and were eventually knocked down to prevent squatters.

All except the house that Jessie now lived in. For whatever reason, that house had remained occupied. Usually by a single individual who took on hermit status as far as the townsfolk were concerned.

The Other Side of the Bed – A Different Perspective

Not sure if this is going to turn into a short story or not. Sort of feels as if it might be headed that way. We’ll see if any more scenes, snippets, or visuals come to me. You can read the first little bit here. Enjoy.


Eh. Not bad for a chick I wasn’t planning on boning. At least not when I first saw her. A little too, I don’t know, low key for me. I mean, she didn’t stand out at first. Not like my other chicks. She was obviously the quiet type in her group. The others were wearing the tight skirts, sky-high heels. I almost went for the big titties but then I watched this one turn down dude after dude. Challenge!  And as usual, I won. Damn, my game is so tight I should be winning awards.

Todd rolled over on his side putting him on the right side of the bed, facing the bathroom into which his conquest had disappeared immediately after he’d cum. He’d pulled off the condom and dropped it casually to the floor on the left while she’d quickly gotten out of bed. Before the slimy piece of latex had hit the hard wood, she’d walked into the bathroom and shut the door. He’d heard the shower come on shortly there after.

He was dozing when she came back out.

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to move over.”

“Wha…why? What difference does it make, it’s just for tonight. Come get in. My back’s kinda cold.”  He thought he was being clever.

“Hmph. Look either move over, or get your shit and leave.”

That woke him up. The sex had been pretty good, so he’d already planned on hitting it one more time before he left in the morning. Leaving now was not an option as far as his ego and morning woody were concerned.  “Alright, alright.  Here you go.”

He slid back to the left side of the bed, not paying much attention to how she carefully tucked the sheets back in where he’d pulled them out to make room for his larger frame. By the time she’d gotten in the bed, he was back to a semi-doze, drifting off to sleep on his side with his back to her.

“Thy will be done.” she whispered. Then the lights went out.

At some point he recognized he was hot under the covers. He kicked his feet a bit to loosen the sheets even further, then slid his right leg over his left so it was dangling off the edge of the bed. He was rewarded with a cooling sensation that moved up from his foot to his hip. He promptly drifted back into a deeper, dreamless sleep. He didn’t hear the tapping, or scraping sound begin underneath him. He barely registered the numbness in his exposed limb. He didn’t come awake until his body hit the floor at that odd angle. Wide awake but only for a moment before the nothing under the bed consumed him.

The Other Side of the Bed

Rough draft. Written as it came to me in that space between dreaming and wakefulness.


Jessie wasn’t much for one night stands to begin with. Casual sex had never developed into a “thing” for her.  She instead would much prefer to develop a relationship, enjoy being courted, then if the stars aligned, she’d marry and all would be right with the world. Except she remembered what her Aunt had said, “never anyone you love. Love makes it worse.”

But let’s face it, a single twenty-something in today’s world; relatively attractive and fairly out going, she consistently attracted those who just wanted to “hook-up”.  The guys she liked were turned down gently but firmly.  Those who were most obnoxious, well…they tended to get the invtiation they were so adament about.  Jessie often wondered when she woke up the next morning, alone, in the middle of the bed, if they regreted their decision.  She honestly didn’t care.

Jessie inherited the house she lived in from her crazy Aunt Sylvia.  “Crazy” was the only word she’d ever heard repeatedly used to describe her dad’s sister.  She’d run away from home at sixteen, then showed back up at twenty three, married to a man twice her age that no one had been properly introduced to which folks agreed was odd. Girls didn’t do such things back in the day.  They’d settled in this small two bedroom, one bath house out on Sycamore, right next to the old cemetery. Which was of course, odder still. No one was ever sure how they survived seeing as how neither one of them was seen going to work, in town at the grocery store, or out back of the property doing any kind of gardening.

Subsequent stories about them kept Jessie’s proper family members at a great distance. When Jessie was born, or so the story went, Sylvia showed up at their house one evening. Jessie was a little over a month at the time. She was a fussy baby. Especially at night. She’d been screaming since her mom had put her down at seven.  Her parents were just about to call for the doctor when Sylvia showed up.

“I want to see my niece.”

“Sylvia? Oh, um, she’s already down for bed.  We weren’t expecting you. You should have called first.”

Sylvia didn’t look out of sorts. She was in her late thirties by then. Still attractive. Healthy looking, you know?  Her clothes were clean, if a bit out dated. She smelled clean. Obviously not wearing any perfume but not stinking of musk either.

“I’m sorry. I should have called. But I wasn’t given enough time. I have to see Jessica.”

Jessie’s mom and dad supposedly at this point started to feel a little freaked out as they would remind anyone they were telling this story to, they hadn’t spoken to Sylvia in years. They definitely hadn’t told her what the baby’s name was. Granted someone else in the family could have been in touch with her, could have told her but her parents had only shared her shortened name, ‘Jessie’.  They’d never intended to call her ‘Jessica’, the nurse at the hospital who’d filled out the birth certificate had taken it upon herself to put the formal name down instead of what she’d been told. Her parents had planned on correcting it as soon as the excitement of having a new born wore off.

“I’m sorry Sylvia, but you’ll have to come back during the day.” Jessie’s mom was attempting to put her foot down. Didn’t work. According to the tale, Sylvia looked at both of Jessie’ parents, then marched her formidable, five foot – four inch frame right past them and into Jessie’s room.  Within minutes Jessie quieted. Her parents, fearing the worse made their way quickly into the bedroom.  They found Sylvia holding Jessie in her arms, tears on her cheeks. Her lips moving as she uttered a prayer, or a curse. Her parents were never sure as she stopped talking as soon as she noticed them in the doorway.  Sylvia kissed Jessie’s forehead, then handed her to her mother.  She left immediately after.

She showed up again on Jessie’s sixteenth birthday. This was the only meeting Jessie remembered. Sylvia was looking old. She was single by then.  Her husband had reportedly run off in the middle of the night years before. There had been two or three boyfriends but each of them too had disappeared into the night. All those leavings had marked Sylvia.  Unlike her cousins and most of the adults in the family, Jessie wasn’t afraid of Sylvia on site. Instead, she was curious.  She’d wished she’d been able to sit with her aunt, to talk about her life and find out the mysteries that scared her family so. It wasn’t to be. Sylvia walked into the back yard, her presence shocking most into silence. Sylvia didn’t speak to her parents, her brother or sister, nor any of her other nieces and nephews. She walked right up to Jessie, once again, tears on her cheeks.  She placed a kiss on her forehead and handed her a small box. She said Happy Birthday, then with a stifled sob, turned and fled the party.

The box had contained a beautiful hand made necklace. Jessie had worn it ever since.

A lawyer’s letter when Jessie was twenty-five prompted her to have the necklace appraised. It was valued at over six thousand dollars at the time. The silver it was made from was pure, the tiny jewels that made up the pendant were various precious stones. According to the lawyer’s letter, Jessie was now the proud owner of the house by the cemetery and a trust fund of fifteen thousand dollars. She had to take possession of the home, the trust fund would pay for all associated expenses, taxes, utilities, etc.

Walking into Sylvia’s house was like walking into a museum. Clean, neatly appointed, it gave the appearance that Sylvia lead a minimalist lifestyle. Jessie loved it immediately. There was a packet of paperwork along with the keys to the house. A deed, tax notes and such. And a letter addressed to Jessie in what she assumed was her aunt’s beautifully flowing cursive.

Jessie, I’m sorry. I can’t explain how or why, but you were chosen to follow me. To be the next guardian. I tried to run from it but once chosen, life conspires to make sure you fulfill your duty. You’ll be okay. I always was. Just keep your arms and legs inside the sheets at night. There’s never a mess in the morning. There was never an inquiry either. Just make sure it’s no one you love. Love makes it worse. So much worse. But I love you. I know you’ll be safe. I always was. Good bye.

Jessie believed then that Sylvia had indeed been crazy. Delusional, lonely, crazy.  That was ten years ago though. Now, Jessie made sure to keep her arms and legs inside the sheets at night, to never bring anyone back to spend the night that she cared anything about. There never was a mess in the morning, nor an inquiry, and the thing that lived and fed underneath the other side of the bed took wonderful care of its guardian.


She woke with a start from a sound slumber. The doorbell was ringing incessantly. As if there was an angry woodpecker who had taken offense with the chimes and was then trying to disable them by jack-hammering its beak against the button.

She grabbed her robe, tossing its familiar warmth over her thin pajamas. She didn’t bother with her slippers. Judging by the sound of that doorbell, her time was best spent racing to the door to get whoever was on the other side to go away.

“Who the fuck is it?” She yelled as she unlocked and then swung the door open. It wasn’t until the corpse’s hands slid around her neck that Chelsea remembered, her apartment doesn’t have a doorbell.



On a side note.

Why don’t movies or books about apocalypses ever address the problem that is sure to arise when the many nuclear power plants around the world:

  • go unmanned because all the workers are: zombies, suddenly blind, at home dying from the super flu…etc.
  • fall apart during the earthquake
  • find themselves submerged when the tsunami hits
  • freeze when the sudden ice age hits
  • systems fail when the electricity suddenly goes out

and so on?

copied from http://www.thesurvivalistblog.net

In case it isn’t obvious, I’m in a “mood”. sigh.

Hope you’re having a good day though.




So, I’m typing away at my Camp NaNo project right? Just going along as I usually do, mostly with my eyes closed listening (transcribing) as my characters deal with whatever situation they have me writing about at the time and then this happens,

“And could it be you’ve felt guilty about leaving me all those years ago and this affair is your way of trying to make up for that too?” No sooner than she said it than she felt the truth of it resonate within her. “That’s what this has been about the entire time. You knew I loved you back then, you knew, but,” and this was the hard part, but it had to be said, “you didn’t feel the same way. That’s why it was so easy for you to leave and not talk to me, not try to keep in touch.” Tonya felt weak, as if her body had suddenly gained a hundred pounds. Her legs weren’t up to the sudden increase in weight, she plopped into the chair, lucky it had been so close behind her. Keith didn’t say a word.


I’m as shocked as Tonya.  All this time I’ve been writing up to this point and I didn’t see that coming. I just knew Keith was going to get his crap together to bring the happy ending but uh, apparently I was mistaken.

Man I love writing :-).  Okay, have to get back to the manuscript. Can’t wait to see what happens next. lol.

Lessons Learned and Learning

  1. There is no changing the other; no protection from its wrath should it decided to turn its sites on you. Instead, prepare for the outcomes as best you can. That is the only way.
  2. Whether it’s personal / intentionally directed at you or not is irrelevant. Wondering why is a waste of energy best spent on other activities.
  3. Sometimes, it is a train. Best be in a position to either get off the tracks completely or brace yourself as best you know how for impact.
  4. The view from under the bus can be very educational. Keep your eyes open through the pain and LEARN.
  5. Telling the truth (especially self-truth) comes with consequences. Quite costly consequences in a lot of instances. But then there’s that feeling of freedom…
  6. Perception has nothing do with getting the job done.
  7. I don’t have to like you to respect you; I don’t have to like you to get along with you.
  8. Doing a job to the best of your ability will often get you punished, not recognized or praised.
  9. Fitting in has stopped (if it ever was) being my forte.
  10. I love who I am at my core, I’m just not very good at showing it.

Hope you guys are having a good week so far.