Self Portrait

      I am a collection of lost days and bad dreams, a tour of nightmares and things that haven't come yet. I tend to overthink on a daily basis. there is simply no day I don't overthink about my life and my next step. It takes a lot to be a over thinker and yet look like someone who just don't give a damn about the following morning. Yet that's me, plain and simple. as a Writer and yes I write with an uppercase on purpose. I write more in my mind than in the paper or the keyboard. I reflect my desperation, dreams, demise on words and most of the time, throw it away. 

      I like to listen to music every now and then when i write because i find stories written in the music, or even better I find my own tales hidden inside other people music. weird enough for me, but not for the rest I guess. Yes, I also think about what people think of me, and what I reflect. Again its hard to act so careless, while caring too much. 

      Every time I start to think about how I picture my last days or my own dead realm. I remember the last scene of Evangelion. Sat on a chair, while I hear people i care about talking about me, about themselves... speaking my own ideas and troubles through their voices. I felt the same way that poor lonely boy feels throughout the series. I want to be recognized, yet I always act opposite to what they want me to do. I want to be accepted, yet I always end up running and closing myself. I'd love to be loved, then I fear to hurt and to be hurt.

       I guess I am pretty average regarding to my writing mind. 

John Howler- Case one: Demon on the corridor (draft)

It was a cold day of December when I started to work as a P.D.; but not the usual definition as such. I am a Paranormal Detective hence the P.D. on my card of presentation. It may appear as a stupid idea but when you appear on the phone guide next to important detective names they assume you are serious business. That morning I received a call from a girl with an extremely agitated voice. It sounded interesting as a first case on the morning on a Sunday, not very interesting, but I was low on my finance and I accepted. I took a bath, dress as formal and serious as I could, a gray shirt and a black vest, some old dark jeans and I was ready for her.

She appeared in front of my door wearing a heavy yellow jacket; it appears that sky decided to let the flush run free. I offered her a hot tea or coffee; she smiled barely as she took sit in one of the old arm chairs on my study room. Her eyes were dancing from right to left and vice versa in my office. She finished the tea and started to speak on a soft tone filled with fear I sensed. She started to tale a tale of an ancient curse affecting her family. I lost myself in the red of her lips. The important things I could grasp were two things. The ancient corridors of the university where she studies and a strange trail of sand that appeared every time the “thing” was felt.

Now on my field of work that trail could have been left by many things. Many more than I formally known but everything needs to be checked before preparing for an open assault. A magician is capable of doing almost anything with enough preparation; but things rarely go as planned.

Moonless night

What a mess, I thought to myself when everything was over. blood dripping on the walls, drenching the rugs, staining my shoes. I came to get used to the warm stench of dead bodies. In my profession is usual to encounter this kind of scenarios. I got to take the pictures of everything that was out of place. A broken window pane, may he got inside by that small space. the backdoor was also ripped apart, he may have broke that when he ran over. the size of the shoes was considerably big. maybe 1.85 or 1.90 meters high, a well over 90 kg. of weight. this guy certainly is big enough to take on a fit woman like her. leaving her lying with her head down on the bed with a precise cut on her throat. The smell of the body was becoming far more appealing than it should. I must leave the place now, before anyone gets here. Her flavor was sweet and I must admit a bit aphrodisiac; but I will not screw up as a newbie on the business. The loud noise of the police car is getting closer. I combed my hair, cleaned my shoes, got myself one of the trench coats on the hanger and left by the garage door. A moonless night is always fun to go out and play. As the police men got into the house I walked in the other way, no one suspect of me. why should they I cover the tracks, by the time the find the set up. I'll be on summer camp. middle school is always funny to ran away in summer, and who knows... maybe I'll play a bit there to.