Houses of the Broken and Other Stories

Posts tagged “damage

Sticks and Stones

In Houses of the Broken, Lacey reflects “There’s nothing more pathetic than being dumped by a loser… ”

But, many of you won’t know if that’s true or not.

After nearly 18 months, my ‘indie publishing’ experience has come to an end. I can’t say I’m thrilled, but the thing about taking a leap of faith is; sometimes you fall. Does it hurt my pride? Sure. Do I feel stupid for trying? Absolutely. Did it send me in to a debilitating pit of despair over the past 6 months? Most definitely.

Will it stop me? No.

I’ve thought long and hard about what I wanted to say, but I won’t say most of it. I don’t want to break the internet. (I have a vivid imagination and the vocabulary of a well educated sailor.) But I feel it can best be summarized the classic parent trap: I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.

I gambled and I lost. It happens, just spend an afternoon browsing Writer Beware. What will I do now? Rally. It might take longer than I like, the Valley of Darkness is long and wide, but eventually it will sink on the horizon behind me. And there it will remain, a wasteland of forgotten times.

I’ve come eye to eye with the worst than can happen. From now on, there is no fear, just some healthy motivation based on spite.

xoxo

-Katherine

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When the Levee Breaks

When I grow up, and I mean when I have more control over my own destiny and find myself on the other side of the management desk, I intend to turn things around. Tell your friends what we’re like. Tell our competition what we do. If you don’t like something, say it. Don’t leave it a carefully guarded mystery, festering in a cave of fearful doubt.

The world is slammed with non disclosure agreements and expectations. But I want to disclose. Oh, how I want to disclose.

Too many strings make for a heavy burden when you have to keep nearly every aspect of your daily involvements short, sweet and anonymous. No one wants to get bad press, but the more iron clad the agreement, the more you should keep a wary eye to the big, flashy smiles behind them.

Some people *ahem* are good at telling stories. Some people *ahem* love telling stories and some of the best stories aren’t fiction. Does someone need a champion? Someone to blow the chained cubicles wide open? Someone to ask the other minions if they’ve been treated the same? (I hear some people are good at asking all the wrong questions.)

The best way to keep people happy is to keep your promises. Setbacks are reasonable, if not expected. Deception, well, don’t expect that to succeed for long. Ignoring problems also doesn’t tend to make them go away, unless your goal is to alienate and irritate people in to leaving. And those people, aren’t going to recommend you later down the line, even if they are subject to a gag order.


Third Life – Nothing.

In the silence, there are the voices of a thousand souls streaming through her head. Each begging for attention and thought and pointing out the wrongs she committed that day.

If she refuses them, they bark louder until the din is a symphony of chaos and are too much to ignore. Wave after wave crashing against her broken shores, eroding every bit of her self worth, breaking her will into finite grains of sand that slip through the fingers of her final desperate grasp.

“What are you thinking, dear?”

She bites her lip, the pinch returning her senses to the tangible world. “Oh, nothing.”


Dames dig damage.

I’m working on a theory: Women like 2 things. Sex and murder.

The first one isn’t much of a theory, I’ll admit. I think 50 Shades of Somethinorother nailed that just fine. <pun intended> Murder, carnage, fascination with sharp pointy things and a cathartic righting of wrongs… that’s what they really want. They’ll take sex, but let’s be honest, they ‘d just as soon nudge you when you’re a step too close to the woodchipper.

It’s an escape, a release of a whole other kind, to gleefully banter about how to plan the perfect ‘accident,’ and practice the batting of eyelashes. I’d like to say it’s innocent enough, but it depends how much I feel like obscuring the truth.

The girls I knew yesterday, and the women I know today, all express these darker tendencies. Birds of a feather? Perhaps. Or maybe, truly, it’s part of a larger truth that the male marketing media has long denied.

Dames dig damage.

Talk to a woman, any woman, no matter how happy, or well rounded, or comfortable she may be, and see how long it takes her to utter the words “I could have killed him.” Red handkerchief in with the delicates? One swig of milk left in the jug? That bag of garbage left to ferment and walk itself out to the curb? The co-worker who constantly farts in your cubicle?

It doesn’t take much. And that’s just the daily grind. Think of the conversations that happen in the thick of relationship turmoil. I might need a poll for scientific accuracy, but I’m not sure I’ve ever met a woman who didn’t relate to and admire “Thelma & Louise” just a little bit. Women are hardwired for protection. Never mistake a nurturing spirit for weakness.

And for your own good, put the seat down.