Your Midweek Update for 12/22/21

Science is a serial killer’s best friend. Honestly, I can make an argument for all aspects of the education system – except for math but, of course, I decided to become a banker so I still have to retain some of my high school mathematics – but science really has to be on your side in order to succeed when it comes to murder. And not just Forensics, either: Biology, Physics, Chemistry, Computer, Psychology. Depending on what type of murder you’re committing, you’ll also need Oceanography, Archaeology, Astronomy.

I once bought a vacuum chamber off Amazon and used it to trap a man in an air-tight closet and slowly remove the oxygen. He blew up like a balloon.

In space, no one can hear you scream!

Anyway. The science I’m swooning over this week is chemistry. There are so many chemicals you can use to kill people. So many acids, so many poisons, so many “overhearing that the woman at the next table is allergic to olives and dropping enough olive oil in her cranberry juice to make her throat close up” moments.

And there are so many ways of using chemistry to dispose of a body. Burning is good but dissolving is better. There’s the standard hydrofluoric acid – ala the acid bath killer – but there’s also the much more effective alkaline hydrolysis which is becoming more popular among the recently dead and thus easier for me to use as a cover.

By that, I meant alkaline hydrolysis (lye and water heated to about 320F) is a legitimate alternative to cremation and leaves less bone matter behind.

However, I’ve discovered a new method that I am anxious to try – though I know I may never get a chance to.

Sulfuric acid and hydrogen peroxide, also known as Piranha Solution. This baby eats everything. Well, everything carbon-based which (surprise) humans are. I watched a video online today of this chemist dissolving a chicken leg in a few minutes. And I mean completely dissolved – bones and all. The liquid turned this black-green colour and boiled and clung to pieces of the chicken. It looked like a million little piranhas chomping away.

It was so cool!

But this still is incredibly toxic – obviously – and dangerous to handle so it’s not something you can safely piece together from household appliances. You would need to get the proper PPE to handle this stuff which I don’t currently have.

It’s too late to ask James to get it for me for Christmas but maybe there will be some boxing week sales.

But I have been obsessing over different methods of chemical disposal all afternoon because of this video. It was seriously so cool.

I know I’ve got the right hobby because I watched that scientist and immediately thought “that would be so useful for disposing dead bodies – or live ones.” It’s just nice to have my passions reaffirmed since I’ve been feeling less than stellar lately.

A nice little spark of creativity just before the holidays. What a nice gift from the universe.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Your Midweek Update for 12/15/21

Thank god for snow – it always lightens my mood. It’s finally snowed which means I can go back to burying body parts and letting people die of exposure so they just become another statistic. The familiarity has been so soothing which is sorely needed after the last few days.

It’s not even problems at home or problems with my feelings around murder. It’s my fucking job.

Carrie went on maternity leave and now we’re all swamped but we’re not allowed to work overtime because they’re worried about being overbudget.

WHAT BUDGET?! We’re a fucking bank!

Anyways, my hours have stayed the same but my work has doubled so I am just perpetually exhausted.

Not too exhausted to decapitate a woman with a fishing wire on my way home yesterday. Do you know how much force you need to decapitate a person with a fishing wire? And it wasn’t really a decapitation, I guess. I couldn’t quite get through the bone but the head eventually fell off when I pulled so I think it counts.

And no, you’re not allowed to picture me digging my boot heel into someone’s back while I pull their head off. It was embarrassing enough to live through the first time.

The point is: nothing has been resolved and if anything, I’m more tired than ever. But I did build a snowman out of body parts and left it outside the police station so it’s about finding things you love and things that relax you amidst the chaos of the world.

‘Cause that shit ain’t changing.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Your Midweek Update for 12/08/21

I love killing people. The act of killing people, the concept of taking someone’s life – it’s all so intoxicating. And fulfilling. It really is so rewarding to find your passion in life; your purpose, as it were. Everyone in the world has something they excel at and everyone has a way in which they can contribute to society. Finding that one thing is absolutely amazing.

I know that there is no one in the world who can feed a man his own fingers in order to dissolve his fingerprints in stomach acid and then hang his body upside down and gut him like a fish so the blood pools in his eyeballs the way eye can.

No one would through a woman over a 15-storey parkade along with her cellphone to fake an accident the way I can. No one can leave a body lying in the snow for two weeks straight without anyone finding it until their entire body has frozen through and parts of it have shattered from the cold the way I can.

I know that what I have is a gift and I enjoy sharing it with you all – whether or not you want it because there are a severe lack of people wanting to be murdered.

There have been a few cases of people meeting on chat sites and agreeing to be dismembered and eaten and that’s very cool but I’m not so much into the consuming human flesh part.

Honestly, I don’t know that I even want someone who actively wants to be murdered. Part of the fun is the hunt – yes, I’m using Casey’s word, sometimes it’s relevant – the chase and the capture of a victim. That can be just as intoxicating as the actually act of murder. Although, let’s be real, the real thrill is watching the light leave your victim’s eyes. There is no replacing the feeling of observing someone’s final moments – seeing the resignation – and knowing you were the one responsible for that. There’s nothing like it.

And yet, for my genuine love of the art, I always feel like there’s something missing. Whatever I do, it’s not quite enough to satisfy. That’s part of why I keep going (that and because I don’t believe in denying oneself simple pleasures like murder). I’m still seeking that satisfaction even though I know it will never come.

No matter how many women I soften with a meat tenderizer and send floating down the river in an ice storm, no matter how many people I poison with a needle full of bleach on the bus, it will never be enough.

And isn’t it so thrilling to go chasing something forever? I will never grow bored or tired or restless with this work – it’s impossible. Which just makes it all the worse to contemplate my potential retirement.

What do I do when I can no longer satisfy my passions?

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Your Midweek Update for 12/01/21

How the ever loving fuck is it December already? This year has just flown by. Also my spellcheck is informing that ever loving is one word so allow me correct that.

How in the ever-loving fuckballs is it already December?

Fuckballs is apparently not a word but who cares?

It’s a sign of an uninteresting person to complain about the passage of time. And yet, here I stand, the exception that proves the rule. You will find me constantly bitching about the passage of time because it does suck. It all sucks. Another year trapped in a pandemic, facing one’s mortality – now more than ever – even work hours seeming longer as each day is inconsistent in its busyness. Thank goodness for that fairly strict rule about business hours or I would never see my family. As it is, James has been working nights all this week and last week (covering for a friend, I guess) so I haven’t seen him in a few days except when he crawls into bed in the morning.

We were going to do something for his birthday on Thursday but he’s working. It wasn’t going to be anything big, just a dinner with the two of us while Cassie goes out “hunting” – I will never not find it funny that she calls it “hunting”. It’s not about what we do, it’s that we’re intentionally taking time to be with each other. That’s the important part.

Or it was. Now he has to work. Although there’s nothing stopping me from visiting him at the prison. It’d be so easy to make a joke about conjugal visits but that’s exactly what we’re going to do if I can sneak in and surprise him while he’s on duty.

I am a simple woman: I am here to have sex with my husband and complain about the passage of time. And if I happen to commit a few dozen murders while I’m here, then let a few people lose their heads.

Maybe I’ll even kill an inmate while I’m there. Although it’s not nearly as fun. Prison is a corrupt nightmare and I would much rather kill random strangers off the street. I can imagine they’re douchebags even if they aren’t – though let’s be real: most people suck.

Just like the passage of time.

See how I brought that back around?

Like a clock?

Look: I’m a murderer not a comedian. Give me a break.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe 

Excerpt of Hit by Mallory Hart

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Your Midweek Update for 11/24/21

I refuse to admit that I’m getting old but my body is absolutely breaking down. Hips and back and knees – my fucking knees. I am still not at 100% since my kneecap decided to shatter into a million pieces. I’m still going to physio once a week and I have exercises to do at home, for which my husband rewards me every night. And sometimes, everything just hurts. I’m just sore and tired and it makes me worry about the future.

I don’t think there’s a day when I make the choice to retire and yet, I can’t safely continue killing the way I have as a grow older. What? Am I going to be an old lady in a retiring home secretly cutting people’s oxygen tanks?

Actually I can see myself doing that. James and I with our matching walkers, just strolling through the care centre being the cute couple that no one suspects. And yes: James is in every one of my visions for the future. That’s not up for debate.

What is up for debate is when I actually throw in the towel on this murder thing.

I don’t want to. And want to stay this way forever, just killing people, and having sex with my husband, and teaching my daughter to be just like me but better.

At killing people. Not having… grammar is hard!

The point is: I want things to stay the same but my body is a constant reminder that it can’t. And that sucks. Even as I sit and type, my back is killing me and my knee is throbbing. It’s becoming clearer to me more than ever, that I have to choose when to stop before my body stops me.

That doesn’t mean I stop killing – I don’t think I ever can – but it means I can’t keep going out at night, chasing down victims, killing without premeditation. It can’t just be for fun any more because there’s too many unknown variables. I can’t take that risk.

Fuck.

I can’t imagine not being able to do what I love anymore. Choosing to stop or choosing to change keeps me in control. That’s best I can do when I feel like my very being is breaking down.

I honestly don’t know what this change will look like but I know I can’t keep going like this forever. And I feel like I’m starting to repeat myself too much but I just…

I’m sad.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Author Sara Snow's 5 Favourite Movies

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Jo Visuri's Top 5 Book Recommendations

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Your Midweek Update for 11/17/21

I was thinking about someone I killed the other day. That doesn’t happen very often. I know I used to write down their names – and I regret how long it took me to come to my senses and burn those books – but I rarely go back and reflect on them. They’re usually just numbers, faces. The thing I remember most is the kill.

The squish of their organs in my hand, the echo of their pleas for mercy, the taste of their blood on my lips when I kiss my husband good night. Those are the memories that stay with me. I don’t care about the people – I hope I’ve made that clear over the years – so why would I think about them?

Honestly, it wasn’t even about them, I’m just surprised that I was thinking of someone at all.

A few years ago, Charlotte Westburn blackmailed me into murdering a politician. I swore I would never be a murder for hire. I would never waste my talents working for someone else’s agenda. And yet…

That entire affair feels like an entire lifetime ago. I was a different person – at least I hope I was.

That woman felt like her entire life was out of control.

You know sometimes I get distracted? I’ll be in the middle of writing and my mind will just wander away. I was just trying to remember if I ever used female pronouns when talking about myself. I must have, right? In all these years of writing to you, I must have mentioned that I was a woman. I’m certain I have and yet, I couldn’t say for certain. Or maybe you all just assumed because I talked about my husband and about being a mother to my sister’s children (which is some heteronormative bullshit, let me just say… but I do it, too) but I am. A woman. I have a husband whom I love, and a child that I try to be a mother for. Not a good mother, even, just better. I deal with all the societal and health-related bullshit that comes with having tits and a vagina.

And on top of that, I kill people. And I take advantage of the fact that I am a woman and some people will naturally not see me as a threat in order to get close to them and end their lives.

I know I’ve talked about being a woman before because I have definitely talked about taking advantage of the system that is designed to oppress me. That is definitely a conversation we’ve had.

I felt that being an assassin was a way of taking away the power I struggle to hold on to in a male-dominant lifestyle. I wasn’t going to do it because after all the things I’ve been through to overcome my addictions and my helplessness, I wouldn’t willingly go back to that life – no matter how sexy it looks on TV.

And then Charlotte, a woman I thought was my friend, took that away from me. And it doesn’t matter that she’s dead now, it doesn’t erase the way I felt when this monster I’d unwittingly created came back to hurt me.

I’m sick of ghosts coming back to haunt me. I don’t want to remember the victims. I don’t want to remember the friends who have hurt me. I just want to forget.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe 

Your Midweek Update for 11/10/21

I could lie and say I had some incredibly dramatic reason why I didn’t update last week. Maybe I broke another limb (which at my age - fuck I hate that phrase - could be deadly). Maybe the police finally found that toe I left in the planter outside the local station as an April Fool’s joke. Maybe I finally did away with my mother after all the shit she pulled on me and my sister. Maybe I finally heard from my sister and had to make an emergency trip out of the country to bring her her favourite sweater. 

Truth is: I slept in and didn’t feel like writing the update. 

It’s hard some days. I know I’ve talked about this before. Sharing every part of my life on a regular basis can take its toll on anyone and I am far from anyone. And sometimes… I just don’t feel like writing.

It’s not that I don’t have anything to talk about. My fucking mother still takes no responsibility for calling Social Services on her daughter. I suppose that’s better than calling the police but she already did that and it gained her nothing. As far as I know, Sandra and Jason never forgave their grandparents. And now Casey won’t either. 

I don’t understand what she hopes to accomplish by punishing her family. We are meant to protect one another. There are so many horrible people in the world and children - my children especially because I am inherently selfish and cruel - deserve a safe haven. We are meant to be that safe place for them but this is just a stark reminder that I have failed yet again. 

Except this time, I will ensure that my daughter is protected from those who would hurt her. She will not become disillusioned to me or the life I lead. And she will not get buried in it. 

I’m including her in kills as much as I can. She’s proficient - she was good long before I met her but under my tutelage, she is great - and she understands the importance of controlling her impulses. Since those first months, she hasn’t gone out “hunting” without telling one of us first. Sometimes, James and I need our alone time so there’s never any guarantee that she’s not taking off and killing on her own but I choose to trust her. 

The more I trust and the more I include her, the better off we’ll both be. It’s hard to fight the instinct to hold on too tight sometimes but look who I had as a role model: the woman who wants to grip her family so tightly she crushes bone. 

And I’ve tried to crush bone with my bare hands. It’s fucking impossible.

I know we try to be the opposite of our parents and most of us will inevitably become just like them but I hope to god I never become my mother. I never want to hurt my daughter the way she’s hurt hers. 

See… 

Always something to talk about.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Book Playlist for They Stay by Claire Fraise

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Dream Cast for Luna Rising by Sara Snow

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Excerpt of Behind the Veil by E.J. Dawson

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Your Midweek Update for 10/27/21

I never cared about my father. I hate my mother – I think that should be quite evident by now – I feel a very strong emotion towards her. But I don’t feel anything for my father after he’s left the room.

When I’m around him, I can feel stressed or irritated or alone. A lot of times I felt alone. The man had this ability to look at you and suddenly you’re a child again. He didn’t yell, he just looked and you… scolded yourself.

I always considered him the lesser of two evils. I knew how to handle his inspections and his judgement and his perfectionism. The weird stoicism despite never being in the military. On a scale from one to my mother, he was her partner – her human counterpart. And she needed a human counterpart.

My mother did a lot of horrible things in her life (not the least of which was giving birth to me and my sister). I don’t think she possessed a single maternal instinct. Everything she did was to maintain her image, her idea of what a perfect family looked like, and if you didn’t match it then you were left behind.

That’s how my sister ended up in prison. That’s how my father ended up in a home. That’s why I did everything in my power to keep my kids away from her. From them.

Because he was almost as bad as her. He didn’t stop her – he never tried. I don’t think he saw what she did as wrong.

Two kids lost their childhood and their mother, because of her actions. One lost their life, the other lost their family. My mother destroyed everything that was not perfect in her eyes, including her own flesh and blood.

After everything she did, I was not going to let her take my family. What I have left of a family. Because, of course, she tried.

On Thursday evening, I got a visit from social services. A woman came to the door and wanted to see if I was a fit mother. We were fine, we always are, we talked our way out of it. But I couldn’t help wondering why she’d come in the first place. We forged her adoption paperwork so no one was assigned to her case – hell, Casey barely exists on paper and that’s only so we could get her into a decent school. I checked in with her teachers two weeks ago and they all reported that she was slowly coming out of her shell. Casey herself was starting to open up again. Hell, I even invited her on my first kill without my cast on.

The social worker told me that she’d received a phone call from Casey’s “concerned grandmother”.

When I called my mother, she confirmed that she’d called social services. Somehow, she found out about the kidnapping and murders – or at least the official version where Casey ran off with her mysterious boyfriend for over a month but came home once they’d broken up – and she blamed me for raising a rebellious child. According to her, she didn’t want me to “screw up another one”. As if everything that happened to Sandra was my fault.

As if I don’t blame myself for it every day.

She tried to take my daughter away from me. She called me an unfit mother.

It’s been a long time since I’ve blacked out and woken up covered in blood. The cleanup never gets easier. I never did find that missing ear.

Oh, my parents are alive and well – or as well as they can be living up north in some seniors’ home with no family or friends. As near as I can tell, I slaughtered a man who worked at a mechanic shop – or he bathed in motor oil. How I came across him, I have no idea but given the lack of attached body parts, I guess I had fun.

I don’t think I’m capable of killing my parents. I’ve thought about it – many, many times – but I can’t do it. Even I have my limits.

My sister, on the other hand, does not. I don’t know how long she’ll be in hiding but when she returns, we’ll have a nice long chat about who’s really to blame for Sandra, and Jason, and Casey.

My sister and I have come a long way since I first got custody of her kids when it comes to understanding our relationship as guardians. Sandra and Jason were out kids.

But Casey is mine. And if my mother tries to take her again? I think I’ll have to learn to be like my sister.

Family is the most important thing and you don’t mess with family.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Your Midweek Update for 10/20/21

 Sometimes I fantasize about being a murder couple. The kind who feed off one another's urges until there's nothing but madness between us. There's something so incredibly erotic about existing in the darkness with another person who sees you completely and loves every twisted part of you. Not just loves you but thrives off knowing you're being satisfied by someone else. Participating and watching and pushing to make sure you're getting what you need. 

I don't know how else to explain it: killing together is so fucking sexy.

It's the ultimate expression of trust. To show yourself and to see someone in a way that you both know is wrong but with each other, you can be open and vulnerable knowing they love you completely. It's sexy. 

That's it. That's the only word I've got for it. 

Sexy. 

Of course, I've thought about inviting James fully into my world, but I know it's not for him. He has his own brand of madness and I love him as he is. And we've played with our food together plenty of times, I'm not worried about being vulnerable around him.

I admit, I enjoy relinquishing that small semblance of control when we're together. Letting him choose the victim, following his instructions when it comes to torture and dismemberment, feeling his eyes on me as I slowly sink my knife into another man's flesh - knowing it satisfies him to know I'm satisfied. Even if we aren't participating in the same way, we are sharing this dark and intimate thing. How can I complain?

Besides, the madness of two always ends in tragedy. Our insanity is beautiful because it's complimentary. If we were the same, I know we would end up hating each other - or the world - and then the romance would be over. 

And I never want this dance to stop. Not with him. Not ever.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Excerpt of The Horror Film Killer by Michael J Bowler

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Your Midweek Update for 10/13/21

 It's off, it's off, thank fucking christ it's finally off!

That's all I've been able to think about for days (in case you hadn't noticed). I just want my freedom back. I've been injured a few times over the years and every time, I am absolutely miserable because I just need my fucking freedom. 

I hate feeling helpless and these weeks when I'm in a cast and immobile and the pain meds have me so lethargic I fall into a depression, it's feels pretty helpless. 

Thank god for my husband or I wouldn't have been killing either. Six weeks without murder, can you imagine? I think even when I was going through rehab, I was only out of commission for four weeks at the most. Maybe I'm misremembering my time in a mental institution overcoming my addiction and psychosis related to murder. 

Either way, I have been clawing the fucking walls off, waiting for the all-clear from the doctor and now it's finally here.

Well... sort of.

The cast is off, which means I'm able to move around more independently, but I still have a few weeks of physiotherapy so I can rebuild the muscle. So I'm back! ... but it's a soft back. Which is okay because I have spent six weeks having my husband basically bring me drive-thru murders and I am so ready dine out again. Even if it's just sitting inside the McDonalds instead of in our car in the parking lot.

This metaphor has gotten away from me a bit. 

The point is: my cast is off and I'm happy about it. Is it the answer to all of my problems? No. Is it enough for now? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Am I swearing too much today? I'm going to blame Linda in HR. She swears like a fucking trucker and it's definitely rubbing off on me.

...

As is her filthy sense of humor.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

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Your Midweek Update for 10/06/21

Sometimes it’s hard to write. That should seem obvious but this platform is for me to talk about my experiences so I’ll share them here. Sometimes I wake up in the morning and I just don’t want to write. Sometimes I don’t want to do anything at all. Sometimes it feels like there’s so much going on in my head that I’m weighed down by it. And I’m just… I’m so tired.

These last few days have been really hard. Not for any particular reason. I’m just tired. But I can’t rest because it’s fucking Wednesday and the days are moving so slowly and yet, I have no idea where the time’s gone.

I hate these pain meds, by the way. If I haven’t said twelve thousand times already. I feel like shit all the time. But I also can’t feel the bones in my knee fusing back together so I guess there’s that.

Fuck.

Words are really fucking hard right now and so much of my life is just words. That’s all we are: just stories and other people’s words and trying to put words to our feelings and experiences. But sometimes there are no words and you’re just stuck as this concept of a person with no control over your own existence. You’re just going through the motions without any realization of who and what you are. You’re completely powerless. All because you’re too tired to find the words. So then what are you if you have no words?

God, I hate these fucking pain meds.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe 

Your Midweek Update for 09/29/21

I’ve been thinking a lot about dismemberment lately.

There are so many ways to go about it, so many places to start, but in the end, you’re just peeling cheesy bread apart. Warm, gooey, cheesy bread. The kind from commercials that stretches forever and you can see the steam rising through the little bubbles of stringy, delicious cheese.

Mmm…cheesy bread.

There is no restaurant open right now that can deliver to me some cheesy bread and that is a fucking travesty.

Anyways. Back to dismemberment.

There’s an old Greek myth about a serial killer who would bend two trees together, tie a person to both, then let the trees loose. The body would go flying apart and be ripped in half.

I know it’s not entirely realistic but can’t you just see it? Can’t you just picture a man’s torso stretching and peeling and tearing apart? I bet you could hear the screams for miles.

Now, there have been reports more recent than ANCIENT GREECE that describe a group of men catapulting a body apart so there is some precedent for it but I would love to be able to put it into practice. And besides, it’s for science. I’ve been hearing all these whispers about scientists performing dangerous experiments in order to create vaccines, and how it’s unethical – as though most things we know about modern medicine didn’t come from Nazi doctors and prison experiments.

Science and innovation are fucking messy. Why is this news?

That being said, there are some people who may be curious about what happens to a person when they are… drawn and halved (rather than drawn and quartered) and while scientists are all about the “dangerous experiments” this may be a step too far for them. Luckily, I’m around and it’s not too far for me.

What I’m struggling with is the set up. I don’t know what kind of trees they’ve got growing in the ancient world but the trees in my neighbourhood are fucking hard to bend. This weekend, James and I are going to rent a truck and we’re going to try hauling it back with a rope or chain (you know we’ve got both) to see if that’ll give us the bend we’re looking for.

Finding the victim won’t be difficult, but we have to keep everything locked in place while we tie them to the two trees and I feel like so many things could go wrong. Of course, most of those things will still result in the man’s death, but it won’t give us the desired result. The murder is inevitable. I’m focused on the “how”.

See: I’m a scientist.

Can you imagine if I tried to publish my findings in a scientific journal?

That’s not a horrible idea, actually. Most serial killers write to the police or to the press because they want attention. I want to learn – and I want others to learn. The place for that is in a scientific journal.

Huh.

I’ll think about it.

In the meantime, I’m off to find the strongest chain in our collection.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Your Midweek Update for 09/22/21

Still stuck at home. Still loopy. Still having my kills delivered to me in the back of someone’s car. Which, for a treat, isn’t a bad way of going about it but not when it’s your only option. You know I hate be reliant on others. Despite the age of technology making everything accessible at my fingertips – including victims – there are some things you just need to do for yourself. Besides, a decade ago, it might have been easy enough to kill a delivery driver but not now. Those poor drivers are so closely monitored, their bosses would probably know the minute their heart stopped beating so they could stop paying them.

Yes, I work for a bank, that does not mean I am not in favour of eating the rich and destroying our late-stage capitalist society. The thing that pays my bills is not the thing that brings me joy in life. I keep those thoroughly separated.

Although I’m barely doing the thing that brings me joy anymore.

Oh sure, James has brought home a few victims on his way home from work. There was a young woman, maybe nineteen, who was walking home from work when a police officer pulled over and offered to drive her home. Of course, she said ‘no’ because she’s understandably distrustful of the police as an organization. However, my husband is very persuasive (and very charming) so I had a lovely present waiting for me in the basement when I got home from physio therapy on Thursday night.

Some men bring their wives flowers…

This woman was such a little screamer, let me tell you. Well, I am. Telling you. What an odd phrase. You say ‘let me tell you’ but the fact that you’re saying it implies that they were already being told. English is such a garbage language.

Anyways, she was in the basement, screaming her lungs out, so naturally those organs were the first to go. Her death was an experiment in memorization and anatomy. For one, the doctor told me to be aware of any side effects of the pain medication which can include memory loss or loss of time so tracking everything is incredibly important. I played a game with that woman’s body where I sliced her open like a zipper, and then I removed her organs one by one and remembered the order in which to put them back.

The lungs are such a strange organ. Before I started killing, I always assumed they were below the chest plate – despite the boys in my tenth-grade class talking about how Frankie Marlowe had a healthy set of lungs. I also imagined them to be a solid object, independently hanging in the ribcage, with muscles of its own to expand and contract.

The lungs are more like… you know those sticky hand toys that you throw at a wall and it sticks for a second and then it slowly rolls to the ground? The lungs are more like that. They’re a bag, sure, a space that can fill with air and circulate oxygen, but there are no ‘lung muscles’ per se. They’re connected to muscles that connect to the rib cage and the lung is more like a wet paper beg clinging to the nearest object that happens to be pumping in and out.

I don’t know why I went off on a tangent in anatomy but there’s your free lesson for the day.

The actually point I was trying to make is that my husband brought me an adorable little screamer, and I made a beautiful mess of her organs – and of the downstairs basement. We would have taken her to the storage unit but I was honestly too sore to move that much after physio. I know the road to recovery is long and winding and all that shit but I would like to be healed now, thank you very much.

As much fun as I had with Lung Girl, I would like to get back to my normal life.

Two more weeks.

Two more weeks.

Please, god, let it only be two more weeks.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Book Tour for Chasing Alys by Morgana Bevan

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the CHASING ALYS by Morgana Bevan Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!

 

Blog Tour for Remnants of Blood by H. F. Cunningham

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the REMNANTS OF BLOOD by H. F. Cunningham Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!

 

Your Midweek Update for 09/15/21

You know what I love so much? Year-End reporting.

You know what I’m lying through my teeth about loving?

Fucking Year-End reporting.

Who decided that the fiscal year ended in September? For that matter, who decided that the calendar year ended in December? Who decided there would be 12 months in a year? Who decided how we would measure time? What even is time? Why does any of this matter?

…

So I’ve taken my pain meds and I am slightly calmer. Bad news is: I am now exhausted out of my mind. Honestly, though, I feel like this week has flown by – and not in a good way. I have no idea what’s happened between last week and this week. That’s

I’ve completely lost my train of thought.

I hate this feeling.

I’m physically helpless because of a stupid accident. Not being able to go out for kills has been hard enough. On Saturday night, James brought me home a victim tied in the trunk of his car. It was very sweet – and I did enjoy slicing her from navel to chin and watching her guts slowly spill open like a baked potato – but it didn’t have the same thrill I’m used to. Being able to catch my own prey, as it were, is an essential part of my life. And besides, I can’t have my husband bringing me home some poor victim every night. It’s like junk food: it’s only a treat if it happens infrequently. I love when James picks out victims. It’s incredibly erotic and it brings us closer together as a couple. This just felt cheap.

But at least I can still kill this way.

It’s the pain meds. They make me lethargic and I have trouble focusing and yet I can’t quite get to sleep because my body is restless. I have not been enjoying my time, let me tell you. Without the medication, I can’t put any weight on my knees. Any stretch or compression that tugs my kneecaps out of alignment has me seeing stars. It’s unbearable.

It feels like there’s no real winning, here, and that is probably the worst part: there’s no good answer. There’s no work around or solution that will keep me happy. I just feel…trapped.

I know this wasn’t the happiest update, I apologize, dear readers. I’ll try to have something more entertaining for next week.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Except of Wicked Darkness by B.L. Callaghan

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the WICKED DARKNESS by B.L. Callaghan Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!

Blog Tour of Spirit Fire by Susan McCauley

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the SPIRIT FIRE by Susan McCauley Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!

About the Book

Title: SPIRIT FIRE (Ghost Hunters #3)

Author: Susan McCauley

Pub. Date: September 28, 2021

Publisher: Celtic Sea Publishing

Formats: Hardcover, Paperback, eBook

Find it: Goodreads, Amazon, Kindle, B&N, TBD, Bookshop.org

Kindle Unlimited members will be able to read this for FREE!

Who—or what—is causing the fires in the French Quarter? A little girl? A long-dead prisoner? An evil presence calling to those beyond the grave?

In this spooky, fast-paced adventure, twelve-year-old Alex must fight smoke, flames, and ghostly prisoners to stop whatever’s causing the blazes—before more lives are lost.

Haven’t started the series yet? Grab books 1 & 2, BONES IN THE WALL & PIRATE’S CURSE for FREE with a KU subscription! Or get the audiobook for book 1 for FREE on Audible!

BONES IN THE WALL: Kindle, Audible

PIRATE’S CURSE: Kindle

Your Midweek Update for 09/08/21

All right, so. In case anyone was wondering: my knee is still broken and I’m still miserably unable to do anything fun. This past week has been so, incredibly, boring. I go to work, I come home, I do my physio exercises, I sit on the couch and watch tv, then I take my pain meds and pass out until morning. Rinse and repeat.

On the plus side: I have been catching up on this television people have been talking about. All those Marvel shows (yes, I caved and got Disney+ because I am bored and need something to occupy my time – so why not the entirety of English-language movies and television for all of history?). WandaVision was good. A little confusing but good. Falcon and Winter Soldier, also a very good time. Loved the social commentary and violence. Loki was more confusing, less social commentary. Tom Hiddleston is attractive, though. What is it with the hair flip that works? It’s very confusing.

Honestly, my week has been so boring. On the plus side: I have yet to lose my mind over the lack of murdering that’s been happening the last few weeks So that’s nice. I would hate to go crazy when there was nothing I could do about it.

Again.

I’ve been spending some time (while I’m conscious… so, about an hour a day) writing out plans for what I’ll do once I’m back on my feet. A lot of choking people with random objects (I blame Marvel’s influence), a bit of poison with household objects.

If I were ten years younger, I would try and learn that thigh-spin-chokehold-thing Scarlett Johansen does in every movie. It looks pointless and fun but given the fact that I currently struggle to bend my knee far enough to sit on a toilet seat, I’m pretty sure learning weird assassin moves is off the table.

I guess there’ll be a few things off the table, now. Even once the cast is off, I can’t start sprinting right away. And even if I can, the risk of further injury will always be there. And even then, I know I’ll always be worried about damaging my knee again so I’ll be cautious and I’ll hesitate and I’ll put myself at risk.

Maybe instead of lists of exciting new kills, I need to make a list of my limitations. That one might be longer.

God, why was I so stupid?

Except, I wasn’t. I did what I always do, but this time, it ended in my knee cap fucking off to parts unknown. Am I just getting old?

Fuck.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Blog Tour of Of The Lilin by Pauline Hampton

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the OF THE LILIN by Paulette Hampton Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!

About the Book:

Title: OF THE LILIN (The Sage Chronicles, #1)

Author: Paulette Hampton

Pub. Date: August 27, 2021

Publisher: Paulette Hampton

Formats: Paperback, eBook

Pages: 317

Find it: Goodreads, Amazon, Kindle

Kindle Unlimited members will be able to read this for FREE!

While dealing with depression, Sage attempts to pull herself into the light. What she finds is better left in the dark.

After the loss of her mother and her stepfather's mental breakdown, Sage Frankle agrees to move in with her aunt and cousin at the Englewood Inn. Soon, her aunt arranges for Sage to begin working through her trauma with a psychologist. As time passes, Sage finds that she is far from healing and begins to slip from reality into a realm of darkness she is unable to escape. After the arrival of her cousin's intriguing acquaintance, Sage is forced to realize she is indeed trapped, not by her mind, but by her bloodline.

Your Midweek Update for 09/01/21

It’s a brand new month and yet I am still the same dumbass I was ten years ago. Last week, I thought it would be super fun to chase a victim who’d caught on a little too early that they were in mortal danger. It’s incredibly annoying when that happens. It’s like on cop shows when they announce that they’re police when there’s a crowd of people between them, and get surprised when they run. Even if I wasn’t in trouble with the law, I’m probably running from the police. In this day and age, I’m hesitant to report a car accident because I’m worried it will escalate.

That’s not what this is about.

This is about me, chasing after a victim, landing on my fucking knee on a concrete floor, and fracturing my kneecap. And then, because – as I said – I am a complete dumbass, I got up, kept running after this woman who was now screaming her lungs out, and just barely tackled her before we reached a public access door.

The only reason she’s even dead is because she hit her head on the same cement that cracked my knee, which stunned her long enough that I could drag her to the edge of the parking garage and throw her over. Knowing my luck, I figured I would have been pulled over the side with her or she’d land on a passing car and survive or some bullshit like that.

The universe covered my ass this once. Sort of.

Anyways, I managed to limp back to my car and drive myself to an emergency room where they confirmed that my kneecap was not, in fact, supposed to be in that position. I spent my Monday night in surgery and then getting the largest cast put around my knee. It was unnecessarily large for only injuring a small portion of my leg. But I did manage to chip off part of the bone in my kneecap and I have to keep the cast on until the bone has fused together.

I came home Tuesday morning and slept until Thursday – which is why I didn’t update you last week. I was dreaming about flying fish and giant talking turkey legs (I hadn’t eaten anything in over 24 hours at that point). To conclude: my dumb ass is going to be walking around on crutches for at least five more weeks and I am not looking forward to it.

But I know I did it to myself. I went after a victim without backup – which I normally don’t need but I was technically performing a kill out in the open and it’s always smarter to bring backup – I didn’t look where I was going, and then I kept running on it after the initial injury. To be fair: there was no way in hell I was letting this woman get away. I would be in surgery and she’d be giving my sketch to the police. I’d be arrested in a giant, ugly cast. No. Way.

But that is what’s going to be occupying my time for the next few weeks. We are just trying not to fall over at this point. I promise I’m scolding myself continuously, I have no one to blame but myself – and the victim for running… but mostly me. I’m basically out of commission for the next two months at least, which is not the best time for my mental health but, again, no one to blame but the victim. “Fortunately” I can still go in to work but all extra-curricular activities are off, much to my husband’s disappointment. Even if I was able to get close enough to kill someone and they had the decency not to run, I am way too recognizable with this hunk of plaster on my knee. It’s big and heavy enough that I’d happily bludgeon someone to death with it…if it didn’t cause me, just, immense amounts of pain.

If you couldn’t already tell, I’m going to be a little grumpy for the next few weeks. Deal with it.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Book Tour for Into the Dark: A Superstitious Reverse Harem Romance Anthology

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the INTO THE DARK A Superstitious Reverse Harem Romance Anthology Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. This is a great anthology with all proceeds going to a mental health charity. In darkness, find light, love, and adventure! Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaways!

About The Book:

Title: INTO THE DARK

Authors: Eve Newton, Cate Corvin, Ginna Moran, Melissa Adams, Debbie Cassidy, Mia Harlan, Cali Mann, M. Sinclair, A.J. Macey, R.L Caulder, Stacey Brutger, Jewels Arthur, M. J. Marstens, Eva Delaney, Hanleigh Bradley, Tabitha Barret, J.E Cluney, Imani L. Hawkins, Avery Stone, Amelia K Oliver, Eileen Troemel Lilith Darville

Pub. Date: August 10, 2021

Publisher: Eve Newton

Formats: eBook

Find it: Goodreads, Amazon, B&N, iBooks, Kobo

Travel into the dark and discover over a dozen sexy reverse harem stories twisted with superstitious lore. 

Hell's Princess cursed into finding her destiny

 A witch cursed to be mortal. 

 Demons fighting hexes. 

Vampires in need of some luck...and more!

From sizzling slow-burn attraction to steamy-goodness, there is something for every romance lover.

Grab your copy today and don't miss out on this limited-edition collection that will be removed from sale on September 10th 2021. All proceeds benefit a mental health charity. In darkness, find light, love, and adventure!

Includes titles: Hell's Curse by Eve Newton; Curses Bite by Ginna Moran; Lupine: Pigs Might Fly by Hanleigh Bradley; Bloody Lucky by Cali Mann; Dahlia: With a Side of Fries by Tabitha Barret; Sweet Lunacy by Avery Stone; Insurrection Chapters 1-3 by R.L. Caulder & M. Sinclair; Menace to the Assassins (An Academy of Assassin's novel) by Stacey Brutger; My Soul to Keep by Debbie Cassidy; Death's Deeds by A.J. Macey & M.J. Marstens; Deflated by Eva Delaney & Mia Harlan; Dreaming of Me by Melissa Adams; Friday by Amelia K. Oliver & Eileen Troemel; Infernally Taken by Jewels Arthur

Full list of Authors: Eve Newton, Cate Corvin, Ginna Moran, Melissa Adams, Debbie Cassidy, Mia Harlan, Cali Mann, M. Sinclair, A.J. Macey, R.L Caulder, Stacey Brutger, Jewels Arthur, M. J. Marstens, Eva Delaney, Hanleigh Bradley, Tabitha Barret, J.E Cluney, Imani L. Hawkins, Avery Stone, Amelia K Oliver, Eileen Troemel Lilith Darville

May include scenes of M/M & F/F

May contain triggering situations.