First Pass...

So. There's no cheese here, at least not in the edible sense. There may be a few great bathroom stories (who doesn't have therm?), though they will likely be embedded within other stories that, sorry, won't likely have edible cheese. Fact is, I've been thinking about this for a while, and since I don't have the energy or the balls to try to get my writing published, at least not yet, well, here we go. Maybe it's not the next best thing, but it's a thing, and that's a start.

Ask me what scares me shitless - as in scared shitless in the ethereal plane - and I'll answer with dead people. Not just run of the mill, funeral-home-looking-like-they-just-stepped-out-of-the-beauty-shop dead people. I'm talking decomposing, stinking, flesh-dripping-from-the-bone dead people. On two legs. Walking, and preferably quite slowly. Hungry dead people. There's nothing as terrifying as a skeletonized cheerleader gnawing the warm flesh from some poor dude's thigh. Unless you're the guy, in which case first-hand experience trumps a vivid imagination every damn time. Oh yeah, that's it, right there. You never really knew how long the large intestine really is until you're watching yours unravel through a gaping tear in your belly as the neighbor's dead kid walks away with it in his mouth. See what I mean?

Since it's getting close to Halloween, the time of year when everything gets a little scarier and a little more weird than the other eleven months, when the sun goes down noticeably earlier and the dark seems just a little bit more, well, darker, isn't the timing about right for a good scary story? I know, I'm assuming my story is good, and another assumption of scary thrown in for good measure. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. You be the judge.

I'll give you a little background, and a little synopsis of what to expect. For me, writing has to be personal. I can't write what I don't know, or don't feel, or haven't seen. In the case of what you'll be reading, what I've seen is (thankfully) that movie that plays inside my head, concurrent with daily life in the real world. That, and a few good movies. I'm not a fan of reading a story line where it's pretty clear the author has never actually been to Sydney and so therefore can't accurately write about Sydney. No, I won't be putting you there. This story is my own nightmare, and since some of it is complete and some isn't, you'll experience it right along with me as it unfolds.

I'll be posting the first installment tomorrow, and one or two a week from then on. Share it, comment on it, give me encouragement or tell me I suck. But please say something - the worst feedback is no feedback.

Peace,

Scott

Note:  I'm a grownup. I'm writing for grownups. Consider this one line, and the last line I'll post on the subject, a warning of graphic content.